


Find what you love

by star_k



Series: Ad arbitrium [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Knotting, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, are they tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_k/pseuds/star_k
Summary: “My Dear,Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's much better to be killed by a lover."Or, Harry learns 16 years is a lifetime to be in love with someone else.





	Find what you love

**Author's Note:**

> **This story is part of a series. It can be read on its own or as a part of it. This is the first possible ending, so if you're not satisfied with it you can try the other one. Or as I also like to call this, this is part one of two sides of the same story.**
> 
> I first began to write this story in June 2017. From then till now, I've graduated, started a new degree, changed countries, got a new job, started a new language. None of this information is useful, except perhaps that José Mourinho is not in Man Utd anymore, thank fuck for that.
> 
> Regardless, throughout this journey i had the unwavering support from my pardner, miss steph herself. without her listening to my non-stop complaining, i wouldn't be the same. I also thank her for crying while reading this. i know it's bad, honey, but i thank you for that anyway. 
> 
> For this, I should also thank L, B and V. Probs none of them want to be associated with this particular piece of work, but I thank them for listening to me anyway. Y'all champs.
> 
> I also thank Sammie for her help on betaing this. If it was too much, I'm sorry. If it wasn't, I'm sorry as well.
> 
> The only truly bad thing is that from when i first started to write this until now that's it's finished, we still don't have LG6. Mum, what the fuck? Feed me.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> P.s.: An, I know it took ages, but now it's all yours, love. Do as you please.

#  ******8 yo - 12 yo**

“And he dribles, and he kicks and he- scores! Goal, from Styles, Harry Styles, number 7!”

Harry had been playing with his football outside, enjoying the nice weather out and pretending he was a big football star, playing for Manchester United and winning the World Cup for England. He was a bit sad his best friend in the whole wide world wasn’t there to play with him, but he’d take what he could get either way. He’d probably tell him later all about the sick tricks he was doing by himself today - and if he’d exaggerate a bit, well, it was for him to know and for Niall to wonder.

Sweat ran down the back of his shirt, his shorts prickling his knees whenever he tried (and failed) to dribble the ball. He may not be as skilled as his imagination made him be, but boy was he having fun. He didn’t know how long he’d been outside, the sun heating over his head as his mum serenely gazed at him whenever he called over for her to ‘look at this, mum! Did you see it? What I just did?’, her loving smile just for him, not minding that he was distracting her from whatever she was reading at their house’s balcony.

Gotta love summers. No school, no homework, just the nice weather and playtime.

It was while Harry was distracted trying to do some kick-ups that he heard a commotion, his sister’s laugh as she opened the back door of the kitchen with a loud bang, calling out for their mom loudly. He turned his head back, curious as to what was happening, to watch Gemma pull a boy her size by the hand so they could talk to Anne. Harry stood there, too far away to hear what they were saying but not enough he couldn’t see his mom’s smile as Gemma gesticulated rapidly, pointing at the boy and, by the look of it, introducing him to Anne. 

The boy smiled warmly, bowing down a bit to shake Anne’s hand as she was still sat at the chair, her open book forgotten on her lap as she spoke to him. Harry still stood there, watching them. 

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Hey, Hazza, what are you doing out there? You’ll fry your curls off!” Gemma shouted at him, her laugh attracting his attention for a while before his eyes settled back on the boy. He looked over at Harry for just a moment, polite smile on his face but he barely held Harry’s attentive stare, instead he walked closer to Gems and called her attention back to whatever he was saying. Harry took that moment to his advantage, grabbing his ball quickly and walking towards them.

“...yeah?” He could hear the boy finish saying, a smile growing in his face when Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“Hi.”

Both Gemma and the boy looked down at him, their size difference aggravated by the two steps between the balcony floor and the grass Harry stood barefoot on. Harry hugged his ball in front of him, his eyes barely leaving the strange boy besides his sister, who looked down at him once more before looking back at Gemma when she spoke.

“Hullo there, baby brother. Long time no see.” She smiled down at him. “Are you playing by yourself there? Where is your friend?”

“Niall is out with his parents,” Harry began slowly, acknowledging his sister before continuing, eyes never straying from the figure in front of him, “who are you?” He asked in his most pompous voice.

The boy laughed slightly, sharing a glance with Gemma before answering him, his hand extended for a grip. “I’m Louis, and if I’m not wrong you’re Baby Brother Harry, is that it?”

“No, I’m just Harry.” He gripped Louis’ hand in his and shook it exaggeratedly. “Styles. We’re all Styles here.” Harry tilted his head. “Except you, I think.”

Louis and Gemma laughed loudly, Anne’s soft laugh joining theirs as she kept attention to their interaction. Harry let go of his hand and pouted a bit, his lips scrunching side to side as he considered them. He hated to be left out of the joke.

“I’m not a Styles, no. I’m a Tomlinson.” Louis smiled at him, waving in his direction awkwardly before dropping his hands and turning to Gemma. “Are we still going?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” She turned away from Harry, calling a quick ‘bye’ at him and at their mum before walking out, pulling Louis with her as he waved a goodbye as well, quickly shouting a ‘nice to meet you!’ as the door closed behind them. 

Harry blinked, approaching his mom quietly as she returned to her book, an amused look in her face.

“Looks like your sister found a new best friend. Poor boy, doesn’t know what he’s in for.” She chuckled, turning a page. Harry sat down on the chair besides her, quietly picking on his ball as the warm breeze ruffled their hair. The silence stretched for a bit before Harry gathered his courage to speak softly.

“Mum?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you think Louis knows he’s my mate?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see his mom stare at him perplexed. She closed her book softly, a hand passing on its cover before she asked him to explain what he meant.

“I mean,” Harry began slowly, scratching his nose once before his hand landed on top of his ball with finality, “he’s my mate, just like a Prince Charming. Do you think Louis knows it as well?”

Anne hummed. “And do you know it?”

“Yes, of course.”

There was no doubt about his answer. Anne hummed again.

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do. He’s my mate, I can tell it. Just like you know you’re dad’s, I know he is mine. Do you think he can tell as well?”

“Well,” Anne shifted slightly on her chair, turning her body towards Harry, crossing and uncrossing her legs, clearly confused as what to say. Harry hated these moments, because he knew deep down people just did this under the excuse of him being a child - as if he was too dumb to understand anything. “I guess if you can tell it, so can he. But then again, you’re both quite young. Maybe it’s best if we don’t… if we don’t focus on it for now, yes dear?”

“Eight is not young, mum. I’m not a baby!” Harry complained loudly, pouting at his mom’s words, a recurring argument between them.

“Yes, you are. You’ll forever be my baby Harry, my young boy.” Anne got up a bit to hug Harry over the chair, bringing him closer as she nuzzled his curly hair with her face.

“That’s not fair! You don’t call Gemma a child anymore!” Harry whined but hugged her back, enjoying the comfort and the warmth of his mother’s hug.

“Of course I do, she’s my young lady as well.” Anne kissed the top of his head. “Now go back to play. Do you think you can do that trick where you kick the ball in the air again?”

Harry beamed, “yes, just watch!” and ran away, not forgetting the topic altogether, but letting it rest for now.

*

#  **10 yo - 14 yo**

“Not fair!”

“I won fair and square, Curly, stop crying!” Louis laughed, lowering the controller in his hands and sticking his tongue out at a pouting Harry.

Harry let go of his controller, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring at Louis - although the effectiveness of said glare could be questioned by the size of his pout. Louis only giggled, fluffing Harry’s curls with his left hand and snickering when Harry slapped his hand away.

“You’re mean,” Harry whined.

“I’m not mean, you were the one who said _ ‘don’t go easy on me just ‘cause I’m younger’ _ so I didn’t and you can’t complain now.” Louis stretched his arms above his head, laying down more comfortably on the couch they were in, settled in the middle of the living room in front of the telly showing the Street Fighter intro scene. His voice always got a tad higher whenever he imitated Harry’s and he kind of hated it.

Even if what Louis said had been true, Harry thought, there was still no reason for Louis to kick his arse so thoroughly as he did. He did have four years on Harry, after all. It seemed like that gap was unreachable, no matter how much Harry tried, Louis would still be those four years older and more experienced.

“Not fair.” He mumbled again, still put out.

“Come now, Harold, don’t be a sore loser.” Louis stretched his left arm on the couch’s back, reaching towards Harry’s head to pet on his curls softly. “I do have four more years than you, yeah? Maybe when you reach my age you’ll be as kick arse as I am.”

“When I reach your age you’ll be like, eighteen,” he mumbled, “even older then.”

“I know right, imagine how sick I’ll be? Proper Danny Zucko, with me own car, a pretty mate and-”

“But I’m your mate.” Harry interrupted him, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

Louis sighed, letting go of Harry’s hair, using his hand to support his head as he looked at Harry. Harry looked on warily, he knew what was to come.

“Harry, that was funny when you were younger. Now it’s been two years, yeah? You think it’s time to let go already, no?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Because,” Louis sighed exasperated, “I’m not your mate, ok? We haven’t even _ presented _ yet, how can you even say something like this?”

“I say it because I know it.” Harry retorted, matching Louis exasperated tone.

“You’re ten, you don’t know anything, come on.” Louis rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean to be rude, Curly, you know you’re my best friend’s little brother and I think you’re cool, but you gotta let this go, it’s getting annoying. I’m not your mate. Okay?”

Harry turned his face, refusing to look at Louis anymore.

“Don’t be stubborn, come on.”

Harry stayed in silence, refusing to acknowledge Louis.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Harry could hear Louis moving around but he didn’t move, until Louis pulled him around gently, but still firm. “Harry, listen. This is something you made up when you were eight, ok? I don’t know why you did, but it’s time to let go. If you don’t, I’ll have to stop coming around, ok?”

Harry looked up at Louis then, scared to see if he was being serious. And he was. His eyes were staring at Harry, waiting for his answer, his face apprehensive. Louis looked older than those four years gap between them.

“Why are you so afraid of me being right?”

“I’m not afraid, I’m telling you you’re not. You’re ten, you can’t know this for sure.” Louis sighed, passing a hand over his fringe. “Gemma calls it ‘hero worship gone wrong’, but I think that sounds a bit stupid. But I will stop coming around if you don’t stop this. It’s been two years now.”

Harry bit his lips, considering his options.

“Yeah, ok. I’ll stop telling you these things, just don’t stop coming around. I need someone to teach me how to kick arse as Chun Li.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Louis smiled, hugging Harry’s head and pulling it down to mess with his curls. “I’m so relieved, so fuck yeah, I’ll totally teach you my ways in the art of Street Fight.”

“Louis Tomlinson! Are you cursing in front of my baby brother? The hell?” Gemma’s voice rang from down the stairs, her feet tapping on the floor as she ran it down quickly to see them still tangled on the sofa. “And bullying him, no less!”

“Well, I had to do something since you were taking for bloody ever to get ready! We’re going to the movies, not your wedding.” Louis let go of Harry, getting up and walking towards Gemma who still stood on the hallway. “If we don’t hurry we’re gonna arrive late, come on.”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I hurried down.” She mocked him, speaking while moving her head side to side. “Now let’s go. Bye, Harry! Tell mum we’ll be back by 8!”

As Gemma turned to walk towards their front door, Louis looked at Harry. “Remember you promised me, Curly.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Louis left with a smile.

Harry sat on the couch a bit longer, watching the intro scene play over and over again. He had promised Louis to not mention it to him any longer, not out loud, anyway. He never made him promise to stop thinking it to himself, or to mention it to anybody else. It didn’t matter nobody believed him - well, Niall did, but Niall was his best friend and he was supposed to believe him either way. In the end, it didn’t matter. Harry could feel he was right, and that was all that he cared about.

He grabbed the console, choosing his character to start playing. He had a lot of catching up to do.

*

#  **12 yo - 16 yo**

Harry opened Niall’s bedroom door abruptly, closing it just as hard and rushing down towards where his friend sat scared on his bed.

“You won’t bloody believe what I just heard.”

“You almost scared me shitless, it better be good.” Niall took his earphones off, moving on the bed so he and Harry could sit down side by side, backs against the wall.

“I was home, right, looking for an after school snack when I heard Gem arrive home.”

“Oh no!” Niall fake gasped.

“Shut your gob and pay attention.” Harry slapped Niall’s leg, making them both laugh. “So, she gets home and she’s already like calling out for mum all desperate and I’m scared, you know? Thought something had happened to her, so just when I’m letting go of my plate of food I hear her.”

He paused for a second to catch his breath.

“And? Fuck, I hate when you do this, just bloody say it already, wanker.” Niall poked him hard on his ribs.

“Louis got his heat.”

“What?”

“Louis got his heat. That’s what she was telling mum. He skipped school today and Gemma got worried so she went over to his house.”

“Which is very far away, just across the street from yours, five houses down from mine.”

“Shut. Up.” Harry slapped Niall twice, matching his words. He let his head rest against the wall, closing his eyes. “Fuck, I’m gonna be an Alpha.”

“How do you even know that?” Niall asked incredulously.

Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head to better look at Niall.

“Oh, right, of course. Because you’re his mate.”

Harry nodded, “yep.”

“Fuck, man.” Niall rested his head back on the wall, looking at the ceiling. Harry copied him, both taking in the news Harry just brought. “I’m kinda worried Gems was so loud about his presentation but God. You’re gonna be an Alpha.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure Gemma said heat? Not rut?” Niall kicked him a bit with his socked foot. Harry retaliated, realising he was still wearing his flipflops.

“Pretty sure. His mum was the one to tell her, so I’m pretty sure she didn’t get it wrong.”

“Bloody hell. We both thought you were going to be an O.” Niall’s voice was in awe.

“I know.” 

They both turned to each other, huge grins breaking in their faces before they started to laugh uncontrollably. Niall snickered, punching Harry’s arm excitedly.

“An Alpha! My best friend is an Alpha! All buffed up and mean, huge alpha!”

“Shut up, I’m not mean!” Harry laughed.

“Not yet! But soon you’ll be, all powerful and strong to sweep Louis off his feet!”

Both sniggered at the absurd idea of Louis being swept off his feet.

“Do you think it’ll change him?”

“What, him being an omega?” Niall tilted his head, watching Harry nod his head. “Of course not! Why would it?”

“I heard it’s pretty rough to be an O, you know. Mum is always murmuring it to the tv.” Harry mumbled, suddenly worried about his mate.

“Nonsense, Harry. Have you met Louis?” Niall laid down on bed, throwing his legs on top of Harry’s and grabbing his ipod back. “There’s nothing he can’t take, he’s tough as shit. We both thought he was gonna be an Alpha, now he’ll probably be the toughest O we ever know, your mum included.”

“Hey, mum is pretty badass.” Harry pinched Niall’s toe. Niall hummed, raising himself on his elbows to look at Harry.

“Does she know you’re here?”

Harry gulped, eyes opened wide.

“Did you leave the food out, your plate out, the cabinet’s opened and came running down here just to gossip with me?”

More silence.

“You’re right, your mum is a badass,” Niall snickered, laying himself down again on his back, head comfortable on his pillow, “and she’s going to fucking kill you.”

Harry whimpered, scrambling out from under Niall’s leg and running out, all the while hearing Niall’s laugh following him.

*

#  **14 yo - 18 yo **

A “CONGRATULATIONS!” banner hang on their living room wall, both the Styles and the Tomlinson families reunited in a farewell party to Louis and Gemma, who got accepted in the same university and were moving out to London.

Tomorrow.

Everyone was moving around, talking, laughing, drinking and eating, excited for both of them and congratulating them non-stop. 

Harry wasn’t one of those.

Obviously he had congratulated them, happy for their achievements, proud of both of them. But.

But.

It had already been hard, growing up seeing Louis only peripherally. He was Gemma’s friend, not his. They were friendly, of course, they hung out together, talked to each other a lot but it wasn’t the same. It was never enough for what Harry craved.

And now, he was going away. Not only he, but also his _ sister _ \- his best friend, his constant support throughout all of his life. Four hours away. It wasn’t forever, she’d said, they’d call each other and he’d get to visit her _ in London _. But then again, what about Louis? There was no guarantee Louis would call him, want him to visit when he could be busy out and about in London.

So Harry was miserable. And fucking jealous.

Jealous of his sister, for getting to experience this with Louis, jealous of Louis for sharing “the best years of his life” with Gemma. 

He wasn’t naive, he knew Louis had had boyfriends during school, but he’d kept quiet, since he’d promised Louis all those years ago he wouldn’t mention “it” and since he hadn’t even presented yet. So he’d kept quiet, moaning to Niall instead, pining away and jealous. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about what Louis would experience as a uni student.

(Niall had even nicknamed this particular mood as “Harry’s_ jealouis _state”. Niall wasn’t as funny as he thought he was.)

He stood in the corner, watching Gemma and Louis taking pictures with their families, smiling and making stupid faces in front of the banner. That’s where his mom found him, approaching him with a soft smile on her face, hugging him sideways and leaning on the wall with him, clutching him to her chest.

“Is this party so lame you’re not even pretending to enjoy yourself?”

“_ Mum _.”

“I know, I know, love.” She kissed his head, her hand caressing his curls back from his face. “You’ll miss her very much.”

“I will.”

“There is no reason to pout, though. She won’t forget you, she’ll just be away for some time and then will come back to visit. Or we will go visit her, what do you think? All of us in London sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

Harry hummed, a little bit excited by the prospect of it.

“Also,” she whispered, “you’ll have the house all to yourself. No need to fight with Gem over who gets to go to the bathroom first thing in the morning. You pick the flavour of the cornflakes you want, or what we cook at Sundays. Sounds like a good thing there, no screaming matches at 7am anymore or never ending negotiations of who picks the food this time or who sits on the front sit of the car.”

Harry smiled a bit, perking up at his mom’s words.

“We don’t have screaming matches over the bathroom.”

“Oh, believe me, Harry, you do.” Anne laughed slightly, letting go of him to turn them so they could face one another. “Listen, dear,” she put her hand on his cheek, “I know those two were constants while you were growing up, but it’s no use to be sad, okay? Your sister loves you very much, but it’s time now for her to go and have her adventure down in London. Let’s cheer up.”

Harry forced a smile that seemed good enough for his mom, because her eyes roamed over his face one more time before she let him go with a soft pat to his cheek. 

“Now there’s that dimple I like to see. Let’s go set the table for our guests to eat, yes?” 

Harry nodded and followed along, helping her set out the table and helping the adults give the younger children their food.

The rest of the party went much like it had so far, joy all around and laughter, as there always was when their families gathered. Because of Gemma’s and Louis’ friendship - and also because they were front door neighbors -, they’d gotten close, their moms meeting each other at afternoon to gossip or to watch over the kids together. Now everyone was around, familiar with each other, happy to see their eldests going away together, a piece of their shared familiarity to follow along to London. 

Harry’s mood had improved a bit since his talk with his mom, but when they were saying their final goodbyes the knowledge that he didn’t know when he’d see Louis again struck him. Gemma was going to ride with Louis down to London tomorrow morning while Harry would be already in school, so even if he was going to say his goodbye to his sister tomorrow, that moment as he stood on the door waiting for his turn to hug Louis goodbye was his last one for who knew how long. His eyes filled with tears.

“Hey now, Curly.” Louis approached him. “Seems like we barely spoke tonight.”

Harry smiled slightly, “the house was too full to pay attention to little me.”

Louis laughed softly, “not that little, soon enough you’ll be my size. But don’t you dare grow taller, you hear?”

Harry grinned then. “No promises.”

“Cheeky bugger,” Louis laughed, opening his arms at Harry, who quickly hugged him, arms around Louis waist as he pat him on the back. “I’ll miss you, Harold.”

“I’ll miss you, Lewis.” Harry mumbled against Louis collarbones, hiding his face on his neck and holding back his tears. He tried to memorize the feeling of Louis holding him and his smell, just one more time before Louis pulled him back, his hands squeezing his shoulders softly.

“Come visit us in London, will you?” He patted Harry’s arms once and then let go, smile big on his face.

“I will.”

“Good. See you then.”

Harry nodded. “Have a safe trip and,” Harry gulped. “You know. Be safe. Have fun. Study hard. Don’t forget me.”

Louis laughed. “I promise.”

Louis went then to give his goodbye to Anne, Harry following him with his eyes until he was out the house with a last waved goodbye. 

Cleaning up the living room and the kitchen, as well as taking a shower and brushing his teeth passed by in a blurred haze. Soon enough Harry was lying down in his bed, clad in his pyjamas and mind a mile a minute, a heavy weight on his chest as he wondered what was to come now.

He cried himself to sleep.

*

#  **16 yo - 20 yo**

London was huge. And grey. And fucking awesome.

He hadn’t had the opportunity to go down and visit Gemma before, either he had to stay behind while their parents went and visited her, or Gemma had gone back home instead. Now he was here, watching everything from the window of the car, frantically pointing to Niall everything he saw, both of them excitedly commenting everything. Niall had begged to come with them, using the best friend card and ‘what a good boy your mum thinks I am’ to save himself a seat on the trip, both of them in the back of the car, more hyped than they should be.

Of course, Harry had more reasons than one to be excited for this particular trip. It had been two long (_ long _) years since he’d last seen Louis, the boy choosing to stay at the city the last couple of summers to work instead of going back home. Their contact had been limited to the internet and the weekly gossip his mom and Lottie gave him about Gemma’s and Louis’ whereabouts.

(Harry had on good authority by listening behind the door that at least one of those summers he stayed behind because of a boyfriend, who he wished more than anything wasn’t in the picture anymore.)

Not only would he see Louis, but he would see Louis as a newly presented _ Alpha _ . That’s right, ladies and gentleman, Harry Styles, amateur baker, romcom enthusiast was an alpha. So fuck gender stereotypes (and also fuck Gemma for gasping so loudly when he told her on the phone and asking with the most ridiculous voice ever ‘ _ are you fucking with me Hazza? You’re no alpha, baby bro, you’re my baby bro _’).

Harry turned to look at Niall, suddenly giddy at the various scenarios running through his brain. When his friend looked back at him, Harry wiggled his eyebrows, trying to convey silently the thoughts running through his mind, same ideas he had already babbled many times before. He would see Louis again, not as a gangly fourteen year old, but as an alpha who wanted him as a mate, as an alpha who _ knew _ Louis was his mate. He would fucking do it, he would confront Louis and ask him once and for all if he knew about them as well, if he felt it. 

“You look like a confused frog, mate,” Niall laughed out loud, head thrown back by the force of it. When he stopped, patting Harry’s cheek patronizingly, he whispered. “But yeah, yeah, I got it. You’ll do fine.”

“Thanks,” Harry pouted, but honestly grateful for Niall’s version of a pep talk. 

Not much longer they were parking nearby Louis’ and Gemma’s shared flat. 

Fuck yes. It was showtime.

Harry could barely contain his excitement as he made sure of being the one to bring all the bags up the stairs to the door. He tried to contain his erratic breath, ignoring Anne’s small smile and Niall’s snickers. His face was split in a huge smile, eager to see who opened their door-

It was Gemma. Of course it was. But that was okay, he missed his sister dearly and he could also show off to her how much of a bulging alpha he was. 

(Or maybe would be one day because right at that moment his arms hurt like a bitch).

“Hey guys!” Gemma exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around their mom, who was closest to the door, and pushing her inside so she could hug everyone as they walked inside her flat one by one. Even Niall got a hug, what made him flush but smile slyly towards Harry before going inside. What a cunt.

“Harry, already showing off all your alpha strength? Honestly, you’ll still be my baby bro no matter what,” Gemma laughed, pulling him forwards and crushing him inside her arms. Harry tried to pat her side awkwardly, but the weight of the bags didn’t help him much. Thankfully, Gemma didn’t prolong the hug so he could get inside and see his family - and a very disappointing lack of Louis. He bit his lips, ignoring everyone’s chitchatter as he looked around to confirm that yes, Louis wasn’t there. Harry sighed, forlorn, and dropped the bags on the floor. All for fucking nothing.

“Nonsense, Gemma, we will rent a room.” Harry tuned in in time to hear his mom saying. Fuck, that wasn’t ideal, that wasn’t ideal at all. 

“Mum, I told you I thought this through and I mean it! I’ll sleep with Lou, you get my bedroom and the boys get the sofa!”

“Yeah, auntie Anne, all the more fun if we all stay here!” Niall cried out, proving once more why he was the best friend Harry could ever ask for.

Anne sighed. “I’ll leave the boys here, but we will rent a room at a nearby hotel, won’t we dear?” When she got a nod in confirmation she continued, “Harry dear, leave our bag at the door and put yours and Niall’s in a proper place. Don’t make a mess of your sister’s apartment like you do of your bedroom.”

“Hey!” Harry dragged the vowel, conscious of everyone’s laugh as he heard footsteps approaching.

“We don’t mind the mess, trust me, Anne.” Louis began before he rounded the corner to the living room. “Our flat is a proper student flat, but Gemma made both of us clean it before you arrived.”

“And I remember as well asking you not to mention that in front of my mum, didn’t I?” Gemma crossed her arms in front of her chest, pretend glowering at Louis while Anne laughed and patted her back lovingly.

To be quite honest, as the scene unfolded before him, Harry had barely understood what had happened since he first heard the footsteps signaling someone else walking towards them. His heart had beaten so strong inside of his rib cage that for a crazy moment he thought it would break out of its confine. Or worse yet, that anyone - someone - would be able to listen to it.

Although.

_ Although _.

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To be acknowledged for once?

“Yeah, sorry for the delay, I had to put on some clothes or I’d be welcoming you all in my pyjamas.” Louis laughed. Even his laugh sounded grown up after two years. “But it’s very good to see you again, Anne.”

Harry was still by the door, he realized. Everyone else was sitting by the sofa, even Niall who was sprawled on a nearby chair and Harry stood out, far away but in a perfect spot to see every move Louis made. How he greeted his mom with a warm hug, how he smiled and laughed, how he joked around and just. Fit. 

“Yeah, I heard it, got proper confused when I realized you meant Harry, he was always so organized as a child.” Hearing Louis speak his name after so long made chills run down Harry’s spine. He opened and closed his hands, desperate to be able to feel how Louis’ lips formed the vowels against his fingers.

“Yeah, that’s before he got his rut, though.” Niall spoke, breaking the spell Harry was in rudely.

“What the fuck, Niall!”

“Language, Harry!” 

“It’s true, though!” 

Harry took back what he said. Niall was the fucking worst friend ever. And so was Gemma, who was laughing so hard she had tears running down her face.

But Harry could almost forgive him when he realized his comment made Louis turn to look at him, a mirthful look on his face and a smile on his lips.

(His lips. God. Harry had a about three different songs about how he remembered they looked like, and five more about how he thought they tasted like. He could barely wait to know it.)

“Well, look at that. It’s Mr Alpha himself!” Louis smirked, opening his arms as he walked towards Harry to hug him.

“Hello, Louis.” Harry mumbled, face pressed against Louis’ as he hugged him back with all his might. He could barely stand how they fit now, Harry obviously taller than him (an inch or two made a hell of a difference, okay?), gangly limbs bringing Louis’ body as close as possible. It was truly overwhelming, the warmth inside their little cocoon, the rightness of their bodies held together.

“Hey yourself, little Harold.” Louis patted his back amicably, once, twice, then let go. It was too soon, Harry thought to himself. Nothing but a tease of a taste. “Or should I call you just Harry now? By God, have you grown taller. Thought we agreed on you not growing so much?”

“Not my fault you grew so little, then.” Harry smiled cheekily back.

“Oi!” Louis slapped him on the chest jokingly, while Harry laughed and tried to avoid the nipple twist he knew Louis would try to give him. “Does alpha genes come with sass now? Did you hear that, Gems? Your baby brother calling me little?”

“He’s not wrong, is he?” Gemma called back from the sofa, laughing along everyone else as Louis pulled an irritated face back at her.

The rest of the afternoon was spent like that, everyone chatting, laughing, joking around the living room. At one point Gemma and Louis brought out snacks and beverages, just to be a good host - or as Niall had called, to Anne’s delight and to both Gemma’s and Louis’ dissatisfaction, “proving they were adulting enough”.

If Harry were honest, though, he’d say how he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should. He had tried, of course, listening to Louis’ talking and interacting with his family (and that included Niall) has always been one of his favourite things, but. But. Since he had presented, he had become more sensitive to smells, and right now the boyish smell he remembered from Louis when he was little had become more. Distracting. Alluring. Harry could barely contain himself, so badly he wanted to hide his face in Louis’ neck and bathe himself in it. 

Technically, he knew Louis was his mate, he knew Louis would smell heavenly to him, but to be actually experiencing it at the moment left him almost high. God, Louis was intoxicating.

(On a side note: being able to smell his sister stronger than normal wasn’t exactly what he had planned with this trip, but he couldn’t very well control his nose now, could he?)

“Right, Harry?”

“What?” Harry tuned back in to see everyone looking at him, Niall barely containing his laughter from where he was seated. Beside Harry, Louis called his attention back with a small poke to his thigh. “Sorry, I zoned out, what did you say?”

“I _ said _,” Louis huffed, amused, “that you and Niall can share the sofa bed and stay here for the weekend. Niall already agreed, how about you? Mind you I won’t be dealing with him alone without you here to chaperone his irishness.”

“If you stay we can dye Niall’s hair purple in his sleep, Harry.” Gemma waggled her eyebrows, laughing when Niall flipped her the two fingers. Harry had been so spaced out on Louis he hadn’t even seen there was just the four of them at the living room, while the voice of his mom carried from his kitchen along with the sound of the kitchen tap running.

“Yes, I’ll stay,” Harry smiled slowly, eyes turning back to look at Louis, fixed on his smile, just for Harry. “Of course I’ll stay.”

When it was properly just the four of them - no “proper adults” to supervise what they were doing, as Gemma so eloquently said -, they set up a slumber party fueled with junk food, pops and beer, and video games. So. Many. Video games. The rest of the night was laughter and curses, changing teammates and games, cheap cheats to try and distract the others so someone (Louis, it was always Louis, really) could win. At some point, Gemma gave up on “winning all the time over you idiots, really” and went to sleep, the clock showing it was 3 am already when she did. The three other boys stayed longer, fighting for their _ honour _, neverending Street Fighter matches of one against one while the third party talked shit about their techniques. In one of those fights, Harry got so intense in trying to beat Louis that he didn’t realize Niall wasn’t babbling by his side anymore. 

To be fair, Louis was terribly distracting and he needed all his attention focused on the game to show him who got the balls to win there.

(Also, by distracting, Harry wishes he could say alluring, seductive. Instead, he meant Louis was elbowing him on the ribs and trying to bite Harry’s controller out of his hand. Somehow, Harry still thought it was cute, though. God help him.)

So when Louis asked him if Niall had fallen asleep, instead of checking it, Harry nudged him with his shoulder and hit the X button harder on his controller.

“You’re not gonna distract me, Tomlinson, I’m almost beating your arse here.”

“Almost being the imperative word, Styles.” Louis shoved Harry back, trying to cover his view of the telly with his body to make Harry lose. It should work, but honestly, Harry was too focused on winning the game to prove his worth to let himself be distracted. Priorities, man.

In the end, it did pay off when Harry won - barely, but won.

“I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!” Harry jumped out of the sofa, arms raised in the air, pumping in victory. Then he felt a shove from his belt loop, pushing him back towards the sofa, where he fell backwards, legs sprawled on top of Louis’ and back awkwardly shoved against the backrest.

“You’ll be dethroned soon enough if you wake your sister up, you idiot with a death wish,” Louis snorted and slapped Harry on the chest, “also, you cheated.”

“Did not.” Harry replied, indignant. “If anyone cheated, it was you!”

“Me? I did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did-”

“God, can you two bumbling idiots shut the fuck up and let me sleep?” Niall mumbled against his pillow, his body curled against the pillow and the blanket he barely opened to cover himself with. He was still wearing his normal clothes, both his bag and Harry’s forgotten by the door.

“I told you he was sleeping,” Louis whispered to Harry, who had to cover his mouth with both hands to try and hold back on his squeaky laughter. One look at Louis showed he was in the same situation, both trying to hold back their noises and making poor work of it, eyes glinting with unshed mirth tears. When they thought they were done, just one look at the other’s face would prompt another burst of laughter and they’d be off again, slapping each other and trying to hold their cackles back in. 

One could argue it was the late hour and how everyone always seem to be a tad bit more idiot after 4 am. Harry, however, had been feeling high since he walked inside Louis’ flat, so he couldn’t very well blame it on that - maybe just 30% of the blame. Niall didn’t seem to care though, rudely kicking him in the shin after he gave a particular loud snort when Louis had to dry the corner of his eye from laughing so hard.

“Fine! Fine, we’re done. Get up now so we can set the bed,” Harry mumbled, smile still threatening to break on his face while he massaged his shin. 

“No, I’m comfy here just like I am,” Niall grumbled, curling back into a ball and hugging his pillow harder. “Go and share with Louis, since you two are the only two idiots completely awake still. You can be as noisy as you want in his bedroom and leave all this lovely sofa to my own bloody self.”

“Niall,” Harry began, suddenly not finding everything funny anymore. Fuck, did he wish. But he couldn’t. 

(But he wished.)

“You didn’t even brush your teeth, piggie, get up and go get ready,” Louis leaned over Harry to slap Niall’s leg, “you can’t kick Harry out of the bed just because you want to have a solitary wank in my living room, you nasty.” He laughed, winking at Harry jokingly while he settled back on his seat.

Harry still hadn’t be able to breath, since the moment Niall told them to go and be noisy in Louis’ bedroom. Let alone be able to formulate an answer to their jabs - or to Louis’ wink. He only kept staring, watching every movement Louis made. His first breath in didn’t help matters much either, not when he could smell Louis so close, in old clothes and a whole day’s sweat. Not when his heart kept beating faster, earning deeper.

“...right, Harry?” Louis’ voice had barely registered back in his brain and he was already agreeing, voice soft, almost hypnotised.

“Yeah.” 

When Harry glanced up from Louis’ lips to his eyes he could see a slightly confused expression on them, before Louis turned to Niall told him to get up and go get ready while they set the bed up. With a barely audible string of curses, Niall finally got up from his spot, grabbed his bag and wobbled to the bathroom, movements slow due to his sleepiness. Louis could barely hold in his giggles, while Harry could barely hold back his disinterest in anything but the boy beside him.

“Come on now, Curly, let’s set you both up before he decides to come back and sleep like that anyway.” Louis smiled, pulling softly on Harry’s sleeve while they both got up.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“What, letting Niall sleep like a comma? He’s supposed to be your best friend, don’t do him like that,” Louis flickered Harry on the nose, making him scrunch it involuntarily.

“No, I mean, letting him alone here and me… sharing with....” Harry licked his lips, gulping nervously when he saw the look in Louis’ eyes. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it wasn’t open either.

“Right.”

“I mean, I-”

“It’d be bad, Curly. Trust me,” Louis turned to start cleaning the sofa of their stuff, ordering Harry on the right way to pull the sofa to turn it into a bed. Biting his lower lip, Harry followed silently, running over what he could say to break the sudden weird atmosphere. When he was almost finished, with no dignified answer to give Louis, he just said the first thing that came to his head, mumbling it so lowly Louis had to ask him to repeat it louder.

“I said,” Harry cleaned his throat, “Guess I just don’t like not sleeping in a bed.”

Louis snorted. “Should’ve asked to share with Gemma earlier, then.”

“Fuck no, she kicks in her sleep,” Harry smiled slowly, glad Louis was responding to him warmer already.

“Well, I sleep naked, Harold, so you’re losing in both ways. Better be stuck here with Nialler then, and pray that he doesn’t wank.” Louis joked, throwing the pillows and blankets back on the sofa now turned into a bed when it was ready. “Done. Where is Nialler? Did he fall asleep on the bathroom? Or did he-”

“Enough with the wank jokes, Lewis, I’m not a knothead, I just want to fucking sleep.” Niall answered him, throwing his bag to the floor carelessly and falling on the bed sideways, pulling the blanket on top of his body and curling around his pillow. In less than a minute, both Harry and Louis could hear soft snores coming from the bundle Niall had become in his haste to go back to sleep.

“Is his pyjamas really full of leprechauns and golden pots?” Louis asked, voice awed.

“I gave him it as a Christmas present last year. He says he hates it, but I’ve never seen him wear another piece of clothing as much as he does these.” Harry snickered, averting his gaze from Niall to a smiling Louis.

“Atta boy, for this alone you deserve a cuppa. Come, it’ll help you fall asleep after all this pop.” Louis invited him, already making his way to the kitchen.

Harry followed behind, cheekily answering him, “shouldn’t I deserve it solely for my amazing win?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Curly,” Louis huffed, setting two mugs down on the counter, quickly grabbing his kettle to fill with water and make their tea.

“You know, when ten minutes ago I totally beat your arse? My Chun Li kikosho-ing the shit out of your Ryu?” Harry leaned against the counter, staring at Louis with crossed arms and a smirk.

“Just because of that, you’ll have to do your own tea now, you little shit,” Louis grumbled, tiptoeing to grab the herbal tea Gemma hid on the top shelf. 

“Not so little anymore, remember?” Harry joked, grabbing the tea from the higher shelf and making a silly face at Louis’ pout.

“Yeah, now you’re a big show off, that’s what you are,” Louis mumbled, crossing his arms at Harry and leaning back against the counter. “Now go on, go on. You have the tea now you make it.”

Harry shrugged, arranging the ingredients on the counter and waiting for the water to boil. They stood in silence, the light from the living room and from the uncovered window enough to lit up the kitchen. When the tea was ready, Harry served them both and leaned his back against the counter, blowing the steam off his cup and watching Louis do the same. After a couple of careful sips, he spoke slowly, softly, mindful of their setting.

“I thought you only liked yorkshire tea?”

“It’s still my favourite, if I’m honest,” Louis replied, voice just as soft. “But it doesn’t work very well with restless nights, so now I drink herbal as well.”

“Is university life really that hard?” Harry wondered, slightly scared for his own future and terribly bitter for not being able to share it with Louis.

“I guess?” Louis took a small sip, “but not really? It really depends on how organized you are and, well. You know how I am.” He smiled self deprecatingly. “Your personal life counts a lot as well, over how well you’ll deal with it. I guess that’s it.”

“But I don’t.” Harry whispered, somewhat put out.

“You don’t?” Louis tilted his head confusedly.

“Know how you are, I mean.” Harry lifted his cup and moved it in small circles, watching the liquid twirl inside. “It’s been so long, suppose a lot happened since we saw each other the last time.”

Louis hummed, taking his time to drink his tea and answer Harry. “Is this about Gemma? Do you miss her while she’s here?”

“Well, yes,” Harry stopped moving the cup, careful with the hot liquid, and shrugged. “I mean, I did grow up with you guys, now it’s just me and Niall. Kinda feels like we were left behind.”

“Not my fault you’re younger, kid,” Louis laughed softly.

“Not that young, you prick,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, you’re all alpha-y now. How does that feel?”

“Very alpha-y.” Harry answered cheekily, smiling harder when Louis glowered at him.

“Are you sure you didn’t get that wrong? You don’t sound like a knothead to me.” Louis grumbled, hugging himself.

“Trust me,” Harry raised an eyebrow, biting his lower lips, “it was kinda hard to miss.”

Louis guffawed, hiding his face on his arms. “Did little Harold really just make a penis joke?”

“Yes, he did,” Harry snickered, “dunno about the little, though,” he continued, amazed when Louis laughed harder at that.

Soon enough they had finished their cups among laughs and silly talks, a bit of banter and a bit of serious talking. At some point, Harry confessed he did miss having Gemma around, that he sometimes wished he could’ve come with them to London. In answer, Louis confessed he missed home, that sometimes London was too big and noisy and he longed for quiet days in their hometown. 

In the early hours of the morning, while the sun was rising and reflecting warmly against Louis’ silhouette, Harry couldn’t stop thinking to himself how impossibly in love he was. And when Louis smiled to him, attention focused solely on Harry, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping he could be loved right back.

By Saturday, the third night on a row where Louis and Harry drank tea and talked for hours into the night, Harry learned better.

“Jesus, I thought Niall would never go to sleep,” Harry laughed slightly, fixing his cup along with Louis’, trained on how to do it by now. “I love him, but how else can you tell me all the shit you’re up to with Gems here in London if he’s still awake?”

“Are you taking me for an old gossip, Harold?” Louis asked, sat askew on the chair, left hand tapping a rhythm on the table.

“Are you not? What else have we been doing all this time?”

“Catching up?”

“That’s bullshit slang for gossiping.”

“Well,” Louis drawled, eyes focused on Harry as he brought their cups over to the table, “you got me there.” He dragged his cup closer to him, lifting it lazily to blow on it and take a sip.

“I know I did,” Harry smirked, taking a sip of his own cup. “Now finish that story you were telling me yesterday, about the time you went to this club downtown.”

“When we kidnapped the pizza delivery guy? Nah, it was about that, really. Nothing else to say: he arrived, he was cool, we told him to share the pizza with us and we ended up in a club downtown where he played with his band. It was sick.” He smiled and Harry felt earning burst inside of him.

“That must have been amazing.”

“Yeah,” Louis cleaned his throat. “So, Harry, tell me what you thought of London.”

“It’s a very lovely city.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ok, it’s a bit intimidating, it’s a lot grey, but I can’t wait to come live here.” Harry smiled.

“You already chose your uni?”

“Not really, but I know I want to come live here anyway.”

Louis snickered, “all this sureness after a couple days of touristing?”

“You would know more than anyone else how stubborn I can be after I set my mind to something,” Harry bit his lip, suddenly nervous to what Louis’ answer would be. 

The weekend had been everything he wished and more: he’d visited all the biggest spots in London with his favourite people in the world, spending time with Gemma who he missed dearly, making new memories with his best friend, getting to know Louis better and in a different light. It had been a family weekend, Louis and Niall so ingrained in it (although for different reasons to Harry) that it had become quickly one of his happiests weekends to date. Between sightseeing in the afternoon, games with the four of them and late night talks with only Louis, Harry felt exactly where he was supposed to be.

But just like Icarus who flew too close to the sun, Harry too was faded to fall a painful crash.

“What,” Louis laughed humorlessly, “what do you mean by that?”

“You know.” Harry whispered so lowly he doubted Louis had even heard it.

“You mean those early years in your childhood? When you were convinced I was your mate?”

“Louis…”

“Come on, Harold, it was funny once upon a time, but it’s been so long I didn’t even remember it but as one of those annoying childhood jokes. Sometimes Gemma still tries to dig me by mentioning it, but she knows how annoying I find it and drops it quick. Don’t you try and tease me about that as well.”

Harry licked his lips, not really sure of what to do. He cleared his throat. 

“I wasn’t joking about it.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Why did you have to bring it up then? As far as I recall, you dropped that shit years ago.”

“Because you asked me to.” Harry mumbled.

“Did I?” Louis didn’t wait for an answer. “Should’ve let it stay forgotten, then. I remember we got on much better when you didn’t bring it up.”

“Why did you never even consider it?” Harry hugged himself, his cup long forgotten on top of the table. The tea was cold by then.

“Consider what? There was nothing to consider, Harry,” Louis huffed, “you came up with something when you were eight and soon enough your little childish fantasies became one of the most annoying jabs of my life.”

“Why does it bother you so much then?”

“It probably wouldn’t have bothered me so much if you had forgotten about it instead of mentioning it every time for almost two years non stop.”

“Yes, but then I stopped and look at you now. Why does it still bother you so much, Louis?”

Louis looked up from his cup to Harry, face confused. “Why are you obsessed with that again? It was a poor joke right now, let it just drop again, Harry.”

“I will not,” Harry flared his nostrils, so hurt he didn’t even know what he expected anymore. “I will not drop it, not again. Why does the idea of us being mates bother you so much? Why did you have to dismiss the idea so rudely since the beginning?”

“Because finding ideal mates like that is fucking bullshit, Harry.” Louis replied a bit louder, eyes hard on his face. “I don’t know why you chose to play with that shit like that when you were little, maybe you had watched Snow White or whatever the fuck it was, but it wasn’t funny back then, it isn’t know. It’s nothing but make believe, alphas and omegas meant for each other because of fate, destiny or whatever instead of by choice.” Louis passed a nervous hand on his fringe, movements chopped, angry. “It’s not romantic, it’s fucking bullshit.”

Harry let a sob escape, his hand covering his mouth quickly to try and push it back.

“Harry?”

“I’m fine.” Harry choked, tears spilling slowly, uncontrollable. He couldn’t look at him. He had his head held down for a while now, the weight of Louis’ words heavy on him and nothing, not even the concern in Louis’ voice, could help him lift it. At the moment, Harry wished for nothing more than to disappear. Instead, he lifted his arm to hide his face.

“Harry? What-”

Shame panged inside him, mixed with the pain.

“God, how can you,” Harry sobbed, “how can you say that? Don’t-” he sobbed again. “That’s fucking heartless, Louis.”

“It’s the truth.”

And then more pain.

(A bit of anger.)

(A lot of anger.)

People said alphas were more volatile to their own feelings and Harry, at the back of his mind, finally understood what they meant by that.

“Jesus fuck,” Harry snorted uglily, hand passing over his face to clean it before he stared directly at Louis. “You don’t feel it, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” Louis sounded lost, eyes wandering over Harry blotty face.

“I’m talking about us. I felt it back then, I feel it now. Right now, here, sitting in front of you in your fucking kitchen.” Harry sobbed once more, helpless to stop them. “We’re-”

“Don’t say it, Harry.” Louis warned.

Harry hardened his gaze, staring down at Louis angrily. “We’re mates. Or we should be. Whether you believe it or not, it doesn’t change the truth.”

“What truth, Harry?” Louis bit back, “there’s no truth to something you made up as a child.” 

Harry got up abruptly, walking the small distance between him and Louis to stand before him, staring him down intensely. “Do I look like a child to you right now?”

“Yes,” Louis averted his gaze and took a sip of his tea. He didn’t fool Harry, he knew the tea was cold by then. “Yes, you do.”

“Bullshit. Get up here, look me in the eye and repeat that.”

“You think you can boss me around just because you’re an alpha now? Grow up.”

“Louis,” Harry clutched his arm, pulling his arm upwards to try and make Louis get up. “I said get-”

“No,” Louis spit the words on Harry’s face, getting up abruptly, his face livid. “No, Harry, you don’t get to boss me around, you’re a sixteen year old spoiled brat who thinks he knows what’s best for me and what’s fate has let out for my own fucking life. So no, Harry, I won’t listen to you, I won’t _ obey _you, I won’t play to whatever the fuck it is you want to play.”

“Just kiss me then.”

“_ What? _”

“Kiss me,” Harry licked his lips, staring intently to Louis’ own. “And you’ll see I’m right.”

“You’re delusional.” Louis shoved Harry on his chest, trying to free his arm from his grip. Instead, Harry pulled him closer.

“Kiss me, Louis,” Harry whispered, “I’m begging you.”

“Fucking Christ, you’re a_ child _,” Louis freed his arm abruptly from Harry’s hold, pushing him away from his personal space.

“I’m sixteen!” Harry cried out.

“Exactly, you’re _ sixteen _ ,” Louis shoved him hard on his chest, “and I’m _ twenty, _Harry, I’m two fucking decades old and trying to avoid some barely presented alpha from making his moves on me.”

“You say that like it’s a big difference or something.”

“It is, Harry, trust me when I say it is.” Louis grabbed both their cups and moved to the sink, avoiding Harry’s gaze and his outstretched hand trying to hold him. “Now go to sleep, forget all this shit happened.”

“I won’t. I need to set this straight with you first.”

“There’s nothing to be done here, Harry.” Louis tried to hold his tone, but it still sounded bitter, “go the fuck to sleep.”

“Ok, but first try and tell me how do I smell to you then. Because you smell heavenly to me, always has and now it’s almost unbearable how good you smell.” Harry knew he was crossing a line he shouldn’t, but he was desperate. He needed Louis to see the light, to understand what Harry had already understood eight years ago.

“Can’t you see how much of a child you still are?” Louis sighed, turning to look back at Harry, his back leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms and held Harry’s gaze steady on. “Begging me to kiss you, to tell me how you smell to, to what? To prove that you’re right? To prove to the world you’re alpha enough?”

“I just need to prove it to you.” Harry replied, his hopes crumbling slowly around him. Somewhere in Louis’ stance, Harry realized there was nothing he could say to show Louis wrong.

“This makes no sense, Harry. This fight makes no sense. There’s _ nothing _ to prove to me.” Louis sighed. “Not to mention, if this ‘ideal mates’ was true, wasn’t I supposed to feel it as well? Just like you do?”

“That’s why I’m telling you to-”

“Did I ever kiss you, Harry? Did you even smell me when you were eight and I was twelve? Both of us children who hadn’t even presented, who hadn’t even kissed anyone yet?”

“I still haven’t.”

“What?” Louis asked, confused look on his face.

“I still haven’t kissed anyone.”

Louis laughed humorlessly. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Harry held his head high. “Why should I, when I already know who my mate is?”

“Fuck,” Louis hid his face on his hands, passing them restlessly over his face before he looked back at Harry. “Fuck, fuck fuck. Ok, ok, you know what? Fuck this. Listen here, and listen well. I’m not your mate.” He held his hand high to stop Harry from interrupting him, “I’m not, ok? I’m not. I’m not your mate, Harry Styles. I’m your childhood friend, I’m your big sister’s best friend and nothing else. _ I’m not your mate. _”

Harry could feel his face crumpling in tears again, Louis almost sorry face disappearing behind them. He hid himself one more time behind his arms, trying to stifle his sobs back.

“I’m sorry I’m being so harsh, Harry, I just don’t want you to hold onto something hopeless, ok?” Louis continued, voice soft. If he hadn’t walked closer to Harry, he probably wouldn’t be able to hear him above his sobs. “I want you to live your own life, go meet other people, go have your first kiss, go find your real mate if that’s what you want. Don’t hold onto these fantasies, Harry. I like you too much to see you waste yourself away like this over nothing.”

When Harry didn’t say anything back, just kept on crying, Louis tried again.

“Please, say something.”

“I don’t,” Harry hiccuped, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Louis sighed heavily. Harry then felt him step closer, pulling him towards his arms in a hug. “Come here. I’m sorry if I was harsh, ok? But I needed to tell you the truth. I’m sorry.”

Harry hid his face against Louis neck and let himself cry everything he needed to. 

Between sobs, he managed to tell Louis he was sorry too.

He was so sorry.

*

#  **18 yo - 22 yo**

“How are you feeling, my dear?” His mum asked as she sat at the sofa beside him.

“Nervous,” Harry smiled slightly, “giddy. Kinda feels like I have to go to the bathroom.”

Anne laughed out loud, patting him on the cheek lovingly. “You’ll do wonderful, my love. I know you will.”

“Yeah, I bet he will charm the pants off all the omegas at our campus.” Niall laughed, sprawled on the chair he claimed as his at the Styles’ house.

“Niall, please don’t make me regret helping you both move in together.” Anne laughed, eyes mirthful towards him.

“I won’t, auntie Anne, promise I’ll be on my best behaviour,” he smiled lopsidedly, waggling his eyebrows at Harry.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, dear,” she laughed again, patting Harry’s hair. God, she was even more dotting than usual that week, but he couldn’t blame her, not when he was missing home already as he was. “Where is your sister? She should be here by now or we will be late.” Anne pulled him closer then turned to Niall again. “How was Maura this morning, Niall?”

Harry closed his eyes and laid down his head to rest on his mom’s shoulder, letting their voices wash over him as he enjoyed his last minutes at home. He could barely believe it, but it was finally time for him to move to London with Niall to begin their own adventures. At last, it was their time. He could barely believe it.

He hummed jokingly when Niall sputtered about how his mum chewed his ear off about ‘house parties’ and ‘at least doing your homework, Niall Horan, or I swear to God’. He felt comfortable in his own skin, as if he was finally moving forwards, living his own life. Building a future, having new and exciting experiences, as if he wasn’t stuck anymore on Holmes Chapel and everything it held back. 

Harry had to learn how to live his life just for himself. That was what he was doing, that’s what London promised to him.

“... and then I told her _ of course _ I wouldn’t come back mated, you know? Who does she take me for? Harry? I’m not a romantic English Grad student, I’m studying Sound Engineering!”

Harry smirked, blindly throwing the pillow he was hugging towards Niall’s voice. He hoped it hit him, but the lack of protest in the middle of his laughter showed otherwise. Even his mom was laughing, bunch of traitors, honestly.

“You say that as if you didn’t ask for my help to woo your ex-girlfriend, Mr Horan,” Harry laughed, hugging his mom tighter when she slapped him on the shoulder.

“Harry! I taught you better than to help into Niall’s schemes!” Anne joked, pulling him closer.

“Mum, if I didn’t he’d probably die alone in a ditch somewhere,” Harry replied, laughing harder because of Niall’s indignant yell.

“If that happens you’d be right by my side, Harry Styles! We’re ride or die!” Niall threatened, fired up by Anne’s reprimands. “I mean it, auntie Anne! I swear one of these days your son will pop me the question just so we’ll be together forever!”

“What’s this I hear about my brother popping the question to anyone? Who are you marrying, Harry? You can’t marry anyone without my permission, who do you think you are?” Gemma asked, coming down from the stairs with her phone raised in her hands.

“Your brother will end up marrying me because he’s a veritable Don Juan, love them and leave them sort of fella whose only true love is me, his platonic soulmate,” Niall laughed again, defending himself from Harry’s pillow attack.

“Don’t say that in front of my mum, Horan! She’ll think you’re saying the truth!” 

“But I am,” Niall squealed, his head down while Harry pushed the pillow on top of it.

“Yield!”

“Never!”

“Boys,” Anne sighed, “you’re about to go to university, please behave.”

Gemma was laughing along with them at Anne’s exasperation, her phone still raised in front of her face. She walked closer, bringing everyone’s attention to her and not their fake wrestling match when she cleared her throat.

“So, Harold, besides marrying Nialler over there, today is a big day because of your moving, is it not?” When Harry looked at Niall briefly and turned to her with a small nod, she continued, “Of course it is. That’s why a little someone here wants to have a word with you, do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Harry smiled, walking towards Gemma to look over her shoulder, and when he did-

“Louis,” Harry whispered, voice dying out at the last syllable.

“Hey there, Harry,” Louis smiled, little crinkles appearing by the side of his eyes, “Seems like the fun started early over there.”

Harry hesitated, before he allowed himself to open a small smile to him. It felt too sentimental for 8 in the morning. “It usually does.”

“Right, I forgot that,” Louis cleared his throat awkwardly, “so Gemma told me it was your big day today? You’re finally coming to London?”

“Yes, me and Niall are moving in together, to mum’s apparent displeasure but secret delight,” Harry smiled widely, eyes flickering to look at his mum’s and Niall’s reaction quickly before they settled back on Louis, drinking all the differences he’d missed in two years completely apart.

God, it’d been two years since they last spoke. Since Harry last allowed himself to.

“And you’re both at the same uni?”

“Yes, but different courses. He doesn’t fancy himself a Shakespeare guy. Says all those alpha-omega sonnets bore his beta arse to death,” Harry gulped, suddenly self-conscious of a harmless joke when faced with his reality.

“To be honest, those alpha-omega sonnets bore MY omega arse to death.” Louis’ laughter sounded forced, but it was still there. Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring at him. His face was older, sharper, his hair longer. Overall he looked softer, more experienced.

(Like someone he’d forgot he missed.)

A second passed between them.

“Are you excited for it?”

“Very.” Harry smiled small. “I’ve been waiting for literal years.”

“Yeah, I bet you have,” Louis held his eyes for a second more before turning them to Gemma, who was uncomfortably still holding her phone up. “Gems? I have to go, talk to you later, yes? Harry, it was great talking to you again, I couldn’t not talk to you when Gemma said you were moving today. Still remember when it was our turn and look at this, it’s yours now! So have fun in this new phase of your life! Both your sister and me know we sure did in ours,” he smiled widely, looking back at Harry for a second before waving and turning off his facetime after Gemma’s goodbye.

Harry hugged himself and pinched his lips, unsure where he stood, assaulted by memories. 

The Louis that just confronted him clashed with the one from his repressed memories - not because of how he looked, but because of how he spoke to Harry. As if he barely knew him. As if they were strangers from a time past.

In a sense, he wasn’t wrong, was he?

“Harry? You ok?” Gemma called him, a soft hand on his shoulder bringing him back to the present. His living room. His family and Niall staring at him concernedly.

“Yes, sorry. I guess it just hit me we’re really moving away, I guess. I-” he scratched his nose, giving in to the urge to hide away and be alone. “I just gotta go to the bathroom and then we can go, yes? I’ll be right out, you can go warm up the car.” He forced a smile and walked away towards the bathroom.

When he locked himself inside the downstairs bathroom he let himself properly react to seeing Louis again after almost two years of ignoring anything to do with him. 

God. Louis. He-

He looked so good. He still looked like everything Harry wanted - like the only thing he had ever wanted. His hair was a bit longer, his voice sharper, his eyes surer of himself. He looked comfortable in his own skin, grown to be the person Harry always knew he would.

(The mate who didn’t want him back.) 

Two years shouldn’t feel like a lifetime, as if both of them were two people completely different from the last time they saw each other, but it did. Harry felt different, and probably Louis did too. Long gone was the camaraderie between childhood friends, what was left was an emptiness of what once was. Two years wasn’t enough time to erase the details of their past lives, but it was long enough to make the silences quieter, more awkward. It was time enough to live a thousand lives, a thousand experiences, to have them and then compare to what was before.

Harry felt like this. And so did his inner alpha.

For two years, two years his alpha laid quiet, dormant. It didn’t manifest itself when Harry had his first kiss, his first shared orgasm, the first (and only) time he knotted someone - accidentally, but it had happened and his alpha kept quiet, uninterested. Some drunken nights left Harry wondering if a broken heart could change someone’s gender, if Harry had finally found peace by becoming a beta. His ruts still happened, few in between but furious in its intensity. He never had the courage to spend it with anyone, despite the invitations, not when he could barely contain himself by how deeply his alpha craved, ached, and then went quiet again when it was over.

And now.

Now Harry dry heaved, shaking like a leaf on top of the sink, surprised by the force with which his inner alpha responded to the mere glance of Louis. Two years of relative solitude shattered by a one minute call, his desperate hope that he really had been wrong all these years broken.

It didn’t matter how much he repressed the memories, or how much he ignored Louis, he was still in love with his one and only mate. 

Harry let a desperate sob escape from his mouth. He hid his face against his arms, braced on top of the sink and curved, desperate to forget and disappear. He had taken his time to accept the truth, that it didn’t matter how he felt, in the end it took two to make a bond. And it was pretty clear Louis didn’t want anything to do with Harry, not romantically.

He passed both hands between his curls, fingers getting tangled and pulling them. He felt stretched thin inside himself, his inner alpha howling and raging inside him, sure of what it wanted with every wild beat of his heart while his mind screamed for an ounce of control. It’d been too long since Harry felt such a deep despair, the last time when he had the words suffocating him, telling him in no uncertain terms they weren’t meant to be.

_ How could they not when Harry felt like this? _

His deep breaths echoed inside the bathroom and he focused on them to empty his mind, to get his control back. He wasn’t his alpha, he was more. He wasn’t his hopeless bond, he was more. He wasn’t half a soulmate, he was. He was Harry. Hurt, but resigned. In love, but not reciprocated. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t anybody’s fault, he could accept that fate’s mishappening. It was life, and he was okay, _ he was okay _.

He took a deep breath, straightening up and opening the tap to wash his face. He gathered both hands together full of water and dunked his face inside them, letting the cold water calm his mind. He repeated it once, twice, then straightened again, looking himself in the mirror. He looked pale, his eyes taken by a red tint. He kept staring at himself, watching the red fade slowly, the throb in his ears and the frantic beat of his heart quieting once again.

He understood it a couple years ago. Now it seemed his inner alpha did as well.

They couldn’t have what didn’t want them. Wanting and having wasn’t the same, so they’d have to let it go once and for all.

Harry had been so sure he’d already done that, but seemed like he still held onto one last desperate, instinctual thread of hope. But not anymore.

And he was okay.

Better to have hoped and lost than to never have loved at all, wasn’t it? 

He was okay. _ He was okay _.

*

#  **20 yo - 24 yo**

“Honestly, this looks much cooler than it actually is,” Lottie complained after she took her helmet off, taking her time to put her bleached blond hair back in place. Harry only laughed, taking his helmet off as well and putting both of his and Lottie’s inside his bike’s bags.

“Don’t do my baby like that, Lottie,” he passed a hand through his hair, trying to put it back in place as well, “besides, you were the one who _ insisted _ I should pick you up, all alpha-y on my bike.”

“Yeah, I needed to make Tommy look my way, didn’t I? I just didn’t realize you act too much like my older brother for it to work,” she mumbled, a pout on her face as they walked towards the front door, “you totally threw my game off out there.”

Harry stopped walking to laugh out loud, his head thrown back and a hand resting on his belly. He almost dropped his leather gloves, so when his laughter subsided - which took some time, considering he burst in laugh all over again when he looked at Lottie’s face -, he put them in his back pocket, taking his time to also dry some tears from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re terrible.” Lottie pouted.

“I now understand how Gemma feels and I love it.”

“No you don’t, Gemma is actually nice to me, you’re just as bad as Louis, if not worse.” Lottie stuck out her tongue, playing along when Harry poked her and doing him back. 

They entered the Tomlinson-Deaken househood still play fighting and laughing, Harry going as bad as softly pulling Lottie’s hair and she responded by taking his gloves out of his back pocket and throwing them at his face.

“God, how could I even think I missed you? You’re a pest.” Lottie laughed, walking away while Harry lowered himself to grab his gloves.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t, just this morning you were showering me with messages asking if today was really the day I would come back home from London so we could hang out.” Harry smirked, grabbing his gloves and putting them back inside his pocket when he got up.

“Yeah, because I needed a ride, keep up, Styles.” She made him a face. “Honestly, you scenters, all so conceited.”

“Aw, Lottie, you love me,” Harry walked up to her and threw an arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. 

“No, I don’t, now let go,” she poked him on the ribs to let her go, “you’ll end up stinking up my shirt then how will I approach Tommy? Terrible, the lot of you.”

“That could work, so he would know not to break your heart otherwise I’ll go all alpha on him and break his face,” Harry raised the arm not hugging Lottie, showing off his biceps to her, making her laugh.

“You can’t hurt a fly, Harry, I once saw you run away from a cockroach.”

“It was flying!” Harry laughed along with Lottie, kissing her temple once before letting her go. “You little menace, always making fun of me.”

“I learned it from the best, of course.” Lottie laughed, walking away towards her bedroom. 

“Was it Niall?” Harry called after her, listening to her laugh harder and shout back ‘who else?’ as she went. 

Harry smiled to himself and took off his boots at the front door, leaving his gloves there as well. He then took off the jacket he was still wearing from his earlier trip from London, wary of how cold the wind could be as he travelled back home on his bike. He had had enough time to stop home and leave his bags behind, hugging his mom as he wished to, before his phone started blowing up with ‘harry?? are you coming??? pls tell me ur coming!!!! classes r almost done!!!!!’ and whatnots. 

So, yeah, Harry was a fantastic friend, Lottie should eat her words.

Speaking of, he took off towards the kitchen, socks soft on the wooden floor, whistling a mindless tune as he went, unaware of the person sitting on the corner of the table. He opened the fridge, looking for something, anything to eat as he talked with himself.

“Fuck, I’m starving. What is that smell, though? I want a bite.” He murmured as he opened a container to look what was inside and took a small sniff. 

“To be honest, it’s either me or the pie mum cooked earlier. It’s been awhile since lunch, hasn’t it? Did you have any or do you want me to cook you something?” 

Harry stopped what he was doing to close his eyes for a minute, regaining his wits after the scare Louis’ voice gave him. Then he turned towards him, container still in one hand, the cover on the other one. 

He took a minute staring, just to make sure his voice would come out even.

“Hey, Lou, long time no see.”

“Harold.” Louis raised his mug in greeting. Harry had no doubt there was tea in there.

“Yeah, no, ate a little bit before I left home, was afraid of getting sick on the road. Now I’m starving.” Harry looked back down at the container, inspecting the shepherd’s pie before deciding on heating it. He put it on a plate and then in the microwave, setting the right time before turning around again, leaning back on the counter. He made a point to not wonder about how Louis hadn’t strayed his eyes from him the whole time.

They stood in silence, just the sound of the microwave working as Harry passed a hand through his hair, pulled the sleeve of his white t-shirt back in place, picked Dusty’s hair from his trousers, scratched his nose, avoiding looking at Louis the whole time. Meanwhile, Louis drank his tea calmly.

(It was awkward as fuck.)

The microwave beeped and Harry took the plate out, burning his fingers in the process as he put it on top of the counter, a small snicker coming from Louis’ direction as Harry cursed and waved his hand in the air, before putting his thumb on his mouth.

“There’s a sink right in front of you, you know. Anne would be appalled with your manners, what has London been teaching you?” Louis teased behind him. Harry could hear the smile in his voice, but he didn’t have the courage to turn back and see it for himself. Instead, he occupied himself with opening a drawer and grabbing a knife and fork.

“You know how it is when you live alone, don’t act coy. I quite remember how proud you were of the mess you made at yours and Gems’.” When he realized what that memory also brought, his voice faded slowly, ended on a reticent hum. He focused on his plate instead, eating his pie slowly, back still turned to Louis. To be completely honest, he didn’t care much about seeming rude, not when Louis was almost a stranger to him, four years and counting with no communication, if one didn’t count the sent regards between family members on their birthdays and the almost forgotten phone call.

They kept in silence, Harry minding his food, just waiting for the drag of the chair signaling Louis was done with his tea but it never came. Instead, an uncomfortable silence fell over the kitchen, just the casual tap of Louis’ mug on the wooden table and the cutlery dragging on Harry’s plate followed by his chewing. 

So when Fizzie came in, she came as a very loud blessing.

“Thank fuck you’re here, Haz, I’m going fucking crazy and I need your help.” Harry turned to see her walk into the kitchen, comfortable clothes and her phone in her hands. 

“Language.” Both Harry and Louis reprehended her at the same time. Harry chose to ignore him, and by the non reaction so did Louis. Instead, Harry hugged his plate against his chest and kept eating, his full attention on Fizzy.

“Stop it, you two. This is serious.” She stopped by Harry’s side, anxious look on her face. “Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.” 

Harry snorted, a hand quickly covering his mouth to stop food from slipping out or to not give Fizzy a sightful as he answered with his mouth full. “You don’t need to quote my favourite character to get me on your side, Fizzy. Just tell me what you want, what you really, really want.”

Fizzy rolled her eyes and smiled crookedly at him. “God, I can’t believe I’m gonna ask for some Real Alpha Advice from a dork like you, but it’s not as if I have a choice, is it?”

Harry smiled still chewing, his cheeks inflated, but before he could swallow and answer her, Louis spoke again.

“You could always ask Liam, you know.”

**Liam** . _ Who _-

Harry stopped that train of thought. Some things were better left unknown.

“Ask Liam, are you crazy, Lou?” Fizzy turned, her hands on her hips to show her indignation. “I like him alright but Harry is the alpha I grew up with, I know I can count on him.”

“Thanks.” Harry murmured, suddenly vulnerable by Fizzy’s words. He loved the girls as if they were his little sisters, and to have it confirmed they returned the sentiment was a welcoming feeling. Fizzy just shrugged at him, sure of her words.

“Sure, so this is an alpha thing.” Louis tapped his fingers on the side of his mug, a small smirk on his face. “Some top knot talk then.”

“God, Louis, shut up.” Fizzy turned to Harry, an eyebrow raised as she saw him chuckling at Louis’ (terrible) joke. “Will you help me, then?”

“Sure, Fiz, I’ll gladly have the most awkward talk of our lives with you. Is that one of those?” Harry wiggled his eyebrow, delighted by Fizzy’s moodiness.

“God, I hate you two, you’re both birds of the worst kind of feathers.” Fizzy crossed her arms, “it’s nothing about THAT, I just have some questions about life in general. And. You know. Stuff. But not that kind of stuff. The other kind.”

“The other kind?” Harry prompted, curious of what exactly Fizzy wasn’t saying.

“Yeah, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“It’s,” Fizzy cleared her throat and whispered to Harry, voice low and her back turned so Louis didn’t hear anything, “about courting? Do you know anything about it? But like, merely theoretical. Of course.”

“Right.” Harry faltered.

“Yeah. Will you help me?”

“Sure. I don’t know how much I can help you with that in particular, but let’s see.” Harry smiled, putting his plate inside the sink and turning the tap on to wash it.

“Thank you, Harry, you’re the best.” Fizzy hugged him from behind while he washed the dish. “Come by my bedroom when you’re done, quick before Lottie finishes her shower and tries to listen to our talk.” She whispered and left while Harry laughed out loud.

His giggles soon subsided and silence reigned after her departure. He put the plate and cutlery to dry and grabbed a cup of cold water, drinking it slowly. Before he finished it, though, Louis cut the silence - again.

“Didn’t know the girls adopted you as their Alpha Big Brother.” 

Harry stopped drinking for a moment, taking the cup away from his mouth to let Louis’ words sink in. It was strange, his eagerness to break the silence yet again. If Harry were honest with himself, that didn’t surprise him, not when the Louis he knew back then hated silence so much. The only uncommon variable now was Harry himself and where they stood with each other. 

He shrugged and finished drinking, washing the cup quickly and putting it to dry before turning to Louis to regard him and what he said.

“I guess.” He leaned back against the counter, crossing one arm against his chest and using it to hold his other arm as his hand passed over his mouth. “I mean, we grew up close, your house is as much home as mine is, you know that. I guess when I presented, the girls just adapted to that, but nothing changed much, as you can see. They still mock me to no end.” Harry smiled, fond of the girls and happy to use this feeling to lighten the mood.

Louis hummed, “so you’re taking my place, now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Harry asked, his tone a little bitter, still trying to hold onto his previous feeling. “You’re their brother, I’m just their friend. There’s no, no_ taking place _ here.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one Fizzy asked for help, was I? Or Lottie?” 

“What the-”, Harry began, suddenly exhausted. “You know what, never mind. This isn’t worth it.” He stood up straight, hands raised to show how done he was with Louis. “Good to see you again, Louis.”

“Wait, I’m,” Louis sighed, “sorry, I guess I still get bitter over the fact I’m not home as much as I’d like.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry asked, finally staring at Louis. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“I know it doesn’t, it’s just-”

The silence was yet again unnerving, Louis staring down at his cup, Harry staring at Louis. 

“Liam isn’t, you know,” Louis took his time to continue, and when he did it took Harry by surprise where he went. “He’s just a friend.”

Harry closed his eyes, unwilling to follow Louis on whatever he wanted with his impromptu change of subject. 

“That has nothing to do with me either.” He said before walking away towards Fizzy’s room, leaving Louis and whatever the hell that was behind.

The fucked up part? He knew, deep down, that he hadn’t lied. He was glad he got to see Louis. He would always be.

*

#  **22 yo - 26 yo**

Somewhere along the way, they went back to being friends again.

It began timidly, that very last summer Louis spent at home before he moved in with Liam on the other side of town, nearer his job. After their initial misunderstanding, whenever Harry traveled back home he would spend time with the girls, and by consequence Louis as well. 

Of course they hadn’t fit anymore, not back then. They’d grown into different people, apart from the childhood memories they had of each other. But when they found a common ground, something they could talk about in the same language, they tentatively began a new friendship of sorts with each other.

Unfortunately, summer didn’t last forever and their promise to keep in touch was but a flimsy thing. It was only at Gemma’s home welcoming party on her new flat with her boyfriend that they got to see each other again, and this turn the time apart didn’t take such a big tool as the last one. So the night was spent amongst Gemma’s friends, some familiar and some not, and most of all Harry and Louis just clicked back to how they’d been the summer months prior, no awkwardness or tough words between them, just jokes and reminiscing.

Then the instagram commentaries became meme sharing which in turn became late night talks when neither of them could sleep, not when the city was busy and noisy and their minds were just as loud.

So when Harry graduated, he wasn’t surprised to see Louis’ face there, along with Gemma’s, his mom’s and Niall’s. The graduation ceremony was a small thing, just faculty, students and family. He would properly celebrate it the next weekend, when he’d go back to Holmes Chapel to celebrate with his family (and Louis’ and Niall’s) in a house party thrown by his very proud, _ oh so so proud, Hazza _ mother.

For now, he had a teary mother, a best friend, an over the top big sister and a Louis to have lunch with.

“Fuck, how quick has time passed. You’re graduated, baby bro. All big, bad and scholar now.” Gemma laughed, never tired of her timeless joke on Harry’s alpha status.

“I know, it was just yesterday my baby boy was learning to walk and now look at this, an English Major! Graduated! With published essays and everything!” Anne fawned over him, caressing his head and his long curls lovingly.

“Mum,” Harry complained, aware of Gemma, Niall and Louis laughing at his distress. 

“Shush it, let me have this moment. Gemma suffered hers, and now it’s yours.” Anne laughed, sharing a wicked smile with Gemma.

“Man, I can barely wait for it to be my turn, I won’t even care my ma will go hard on me like auntie Anne, I just want it to be done.” Niall said, fork raised in the air as he spoke. “I’ll probably cry harder than she will, so glad I will be to finally be free.”

As everyone laughed, Louis pepped up.

“You kidding, right? Now comes the worst part: the job hunting, the actual job, the inevitability of growing old and ugly.” Louis snickered, avoiding the slap Gemma gave him on the arm.

“Our Hazza? Old and ugly? No way, look at this pretty face,” Niall threw himself over Harry, his arm hugging him tightly over his shoulders as his other hand forced a pout on Harry’s mouth. “He’ll never go ugly, he’ll be a proper DILF and whatnot.”

“Niall!” Harry tried to say, his mouth still being held by Niall’s hand.

“What! It’s the truth! Besides, you already were promised a job, weren’t you? With that bloody thesis you spent nights on, waking me up just to cry about how you weren’t able to write it and in the end it got published and praised.” Niall patted him on the cheek softly, “so yeah, you’ll do good.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled softly at him, happy to always have Niall by his side.

“What was your thesis about, Harry? You never told me properly, just said it was something about Shakespeare and how much you hated him now.” Louis asked, fork playing with the pasta on his plate distractedly.

“Oh,” Harry shared a look with Niall, who went back to his seat, loudly asking Anne how long she’d stay in London and if they could be blessed by her dessert making skills. “It was, hm,” Harry bought his time, cleaning his face with a linen napkin and putting it back on his lap, eyes downcast before he continued. “It was about Alpha/Omega relationships in Shakespeare’s work and how,” he took a deep breath, “and how he exploits the Soulmate Bond over his tragedies.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

Harry cleared his throat, then continued eating. His teachers always used to advise them to choose something close to their heart for a final thesis. And he did.

*

#  **24 yo - 28 yo**

Louis burped loudly, then continued talking. “It’s so fucking dumb, I don’t understand how he can’t see it.”

“You’re not a professional coach, Louis, tone it down a notch, will you?” Harry laughed, shoving some more popcorn in his mouth. They were both sat on Louis’ couch, watching the derby on telly and overall just enjoying the Saturday with a beer and each other’s company. “You sound like a tosser.”

“Excuse you?_ I sound like a tosser _?” Louis turned to Harry, face indignant. “I sound like someone who knows what they’re talking about, which I can’t say the same for Mourinho, can I?”

“Well,” Harry laughed, “At least he’s getting paid.”

“Fuck off.” Louis grumbled, sitting back down on the sofa, drinking from his bottle with a disgruntled pout. It didn’t take long for Louis to get out of his funk, Manchester United making a new shot at goal that was so close to scoring both Harry and Louis sat at the edge of their seats, barely breathing as they looked at the telly. Sadly it didn’t matter how many times they shouted at the telly or at each other, or sighed exasperated or cursed loudly at the team (on Louis’ part), the game ended with no goals, earning United a mere one point for the table. Louis passed his hands over his eyes, visibly frustrated by the result.

“I fucking hate football.” He mumbled.

Harry huffed amused, rolling his eyes fondly. “When’s the next game?”

“Next week. Wanna meet back here again or wanna go down to a pub?” 

“I know it’s next week, you sodding prick. I meant the actual day of the week.” Harry got up with a huff, flicking Louis on the forehead as he passed by towards the kitchen, the empty bowl in his hands. By then Louis didn’t even put up a fight for Harry to leave the dishes where they were, already used to his cleaning spree and how comfortable he made himself at Louis’ house. 

“Do I look like google to you?” Louis shouted back, fake indignant tone on his voice.

“Yes!” Harry laughed, washing the bowl and putting it away to dry. He continued chuckling throughout the curses Louis threw his way from the sofa, having too much fun at their usual banter and the slight buzz working under his skin. He dried his own hands on his jeans and opened the fridge after some more beer. They had the afternoon free and a whole two weeks to catch up with each other. He grabbed two bottles and made his way towards the living room, stopping by the back of the couch and handing Louis his beer. “Aren’t you the know-it-all bossy one here?”

“I’m just older and more wise, you tosser.” Louis grabbed the beer and opened it quickly, gulping a bit down.

“As I said: know-it-all bossy little shitte.”

“You shower me with compliments,” he replied with a raised middle finger. “Fine, let me check it.”

While Louis used his phone and googled it, Harry cheered with one hand moving side to side, the other one bringing his beer to his mouth. He drank distractedly, thinking about convincing Louis to buy some chinese takeaway since he was too lazy to cook today and didn’t particularly want pizza again. Maybe it could be shawarma.

“What the fuck, this is wrong.”

Harry lowered his bottle with a pop coming from his mouth. “What is?”

Louis didn’t answer him, instead settling for tapping on his phone frantically.

“Louis?” Harry made his way around the couch and sat down gravely when he saw the look in Louis’ face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just,” Louis sighed, whispering a little mad, “shit. I fucked up.”

“Louis?” Harry scooted over the sofa so he could sit closer to Louis. “Fuck, your eyes look like they gonna pop out. Tell me what’s wrong, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Louis laughed slightly, taking Harry’s hand away from his shoulder. “I don’t have the shits, Harold, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just realized I’m fucked, but that’s okay, I’ll make do. Blame on holiday-dumbness or some shit.”

Harry poked Louis’ shoulder, smiling bigger when his face finally cleared from his worried expression. “I’m serious, you scared me for a moment. Is that anything I can help you with? Is it from work?”

“No, it’s…”

Louis took his time to answer, instead gazing at Harry, his expression unreadable. Harry kept where he was, looking at Louis, already used to how Louis sometimes struggled to speak what he meant, what he wanted.

Their friendship had grown, sure, but it didn’t mean they always knew how to talk to each other and sometimes there were these weird moments, pregnant silences to remind them of passages of their story. They learned the bad way they should always text each other before dropping by, when one unsuspecting day Louis had passed by Harry’s place when he had his then-boyfriend over - said boyfriend who broke things off with Harry because of ‘how he clearly had a thing for that omega brat, _ God, Harry, just confess it _’. Harry hadn’t told these details to Louis, of course, but deep down he feared Louis knew anyway. The problem was the nature of their past - not really exes, but not really free from being strictly platonic. 

Amidst it all, of course, still laid unspoken words, aborted touches, awkward subjects. But they made do.

Now Harry could gladly say he had a close friend in Louis, someone he hung out with a lot, someone who he could count on. Niall always made fun of him, saying how Louis was a soul who was his mate and his 8 year old self had gotten it all wrong in the end (and the mere fact they could joke about it, about how Niall was jealous of being stripped off the buddy soulmate title he’d been holding for so long, was proof enough of how Harry had accepted sometimes fate was something bigger than any of them could comprehend.)

But some days, Harry couldn’t stop wondering if he hadn’t just gotten better at lying to himself.

“Hey, it’s ok if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Harry smiled at him, putting a comforting hand on his knee. “Just tell me about the game, yeah? If you don’t wanna go it’s ok as well, you know it.”

Louis puffed loudly, scratching his fringe and obviously frustrated. He still held his phone in his hand. “No, it’s alright, I just realized I haven’t been paying as much attention as I should.”

“Hm?”

“I took this month holiday because it’s my heat and I hate taking time off for it,” he scrunched his nose. “It’s already next week.”

“Ah,” awkwardly, Harry took his hand away from Louis’ knee. He didn’t want to pass any assumptions with his body language, but it was hard to stop himself from tensing up.

“Yeah.” Louis cleared his throat, juggling his phone from one hand to another. “And I didn’t even find anyone to, you know.”

“Right.”

“So, yeah. I fucked up.”

“I see.”

They stayed quiet, each avoiding any sort of contact with the other and just drinking their beers silently. Harry wondered if he should leave earlier or if that was absurd - it’s not as if they haven’t had any awkward moments before and they dealt with it fine. Although, Louis seemed to be on a tight schedule. Maybe he should leave him to-

Yeah. He cleared his throat and drank some more beer. He had no clue what to say or do.

“Maybe,” Harry started slowly just to break the silence, “I dunno. You have the whole week to find someone so it’s not so bad, is it?”

Louis just shrugged, picking at the label of his beer. Harry still hadn’t had the courage to look at him, instead following his movements by the corner of his eye. He tried again.

“What about, you know?”

“What?”

“The last times. You could call them or something.”

Louis made a face at his bottle. “I’m not gonna call my fucking ex, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah, him.” He scratched his nose. “It’s not so bad to do it alone.”

Louis snorted and drank the rest of his beer in one go. “You don’t fucking know it, do you? Yours and mine are way different, mate.”

“It’s not as if everyone does it with someone, though.” Harry tried again. “It’s not unheard of.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier with someone, ok? God, if you wanna help me with this, fucking volunteer to do me or something, don’t tell me to go fuck myself instead.”

Harry stayed on a stunned silence, his hands hovering over his bottle. It took a while, but he managed to rasp a ‘what’ amidst their tense silence.

“You heard me,” Louis continued as if they hadn’t stayed in silence for so long. “You’re an alpha and my friend. You could help me out, there’s nothing wrong in that.”

Harry cleared his throat once, twice. Opened his mouth, closed it again, opened again. “And what about Liam?”

“Listen, if you don’t wanna do it, it’s fine.” He waved his hand theatrically. “Have you got someone, is that it? It’s-”

“No, I don’t-”

“-not as if I don’t have options, it’s just easier because you’re already here-”

“I thought you said it was gonna be next week-”

“-and to be honest I don’t even know if you’re any good, do I?”

“I,” Harry licked his lips, suddenly mad. “What?”

“You heard me,” Louis repeated, going for another drink from his bottle but finding it empty. He put it on top of the side table. “You’re all alpha posturing and whatnot, I can’t trust it, can I? Might be even better to spend it alone in the end.”

Harry tightened his grip around his bottle to try and contain his impulse. He rarely got pissed at his banter with Louis, he hated losing control, but this verged on a complete new territory, mean and provocative. He didn’t know what Louis was at. He didn’t mind jabs at his gender, didn’t mind plays at his ‘prowess’ or whatever the fuck that was, but. What the fuck was Louis even trying to do, was he asking for help, was he making fun of Harry, of their history, what-

“I don’t need to prove myself to you about that,” Harry smiled tightly, finally turning to stare at Louis. “But I never had any complaints.”

Louis hummed. “Not to your face.”

Harry hummed back. “What’s this?”

“What?”

“What are you trying to do?”

“What the hell do you mean?”

They stared at each other, Louis with a raised eyebrow and Harry with his forced smile. He didn’t know anymore how they spiralled into this standoff, so he chose to just stop it before it delved into any worse territory. 

“I was thinking about buying chinese takeaway, what do you think?” 

Louis narrowed his eyes at him, took his time to answer and then finally gritted out, “I want pizza.”

Harry opened his mouth to deny but closed it again. He didn’t want to fight (fight?) again. “Pizza it is, then.”

“No, I lied. I want a BigMac.”

Harry licked his lips, his jaw tensing as he bit back his retort. “Cool. McDonald’s then. You got their delivery number?”

“No.”

It was probably a lie, considering how much Louis loved it. “No problem, I’ll just google it then. They probably have it online anyway.”

Louis didn’t answer, instead he got up and went to the kitchen. Harry picked his phone up and lay his bottle down, unsure if drinking would be the best option at the moment. He looked up their delivery site, filling in his choice and Louis’.

“BigMac with large fries and large coke, right?”

Louis didn’t answer him, but by then Harry didn’t need to check it anyway. And to be honest, if Louis said it was the wrong one he could go fuck himself. He put in his card number and finished the order, choosing to laze around the couch while Louis did whatever he was doing. He picked up his bottle again and the telly remote, channel surfing while he drank idly.

“How long till it arrives?”

“Fifty minutes.”

“Hm.” He sat down beside Harry on the couch. Despite coming from the kitchen, he stole the bottle from his hands to drink from it. “What are you watching?” 

Harry grabbed the bottle back when offered, hoping this meant Louis’ was back to himself. “Nothing, really. Just surfing.”

Louis pulled his feet up the couch, settling more comfortably in it. “Wanna watch a movie? See if there’s something Marvel on or something.”

Harry turned back to the telly, looking for anything passable to watch. Luck wasn’t on their side so in the end he settled for a The Voice Kids rerun, a perfectly mindless option to pass the time.

It was while a little girl was singing an Elvis cover that Louis broke the silence they were in.

“Indirect kissing.”

Harry turned with a frown to look at him.

Louis pointed at the bottle Harry had just drank from. “Indirect kissing.”

For some reason, Harry found himself lifting the bottle up to his mouth to take another sip, still staring at Louis. He saw Louis follow his every move with his eyes, then turned back to watch the telly.

Guess thing weren’t still quite normal, then.

If anyone asked him to name a single song anyone sung on that episode he wouldn’t be able to say one. His mind was working a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what the fuck was Louis’ game. He felt a bit like a dick when he wondered if Louis was suffering from some kind of pms, but he couldn’t pinpoint what else was different. Was he pissed off Harry didn’t offer him his help at first? Did he miss a polite cue or something? He had never had this trouble before, not when he solicited a friend’s help for his rut neither when he was propositioned to helping someone in their heat. 

A small part in him started to wonder though: could Louis be hitting on him?

Maybe he was just curious. It was normal, anyway, everyone he knew had been curious once or twice about a close friend. The problem with them was, well, Harry. Their bond. Their not-bond. Their history. Louis.

When their delivery arrived he couldn’t get up quick enough to grab it.

They ate in silence, watching some mindless action movie Louis found while he was away - or maybe he’d found it while they were still waiting for it, Harry really couldn’t tell what they had been watching since Louis last spoke. 

Louis sucked noisily on his straw, irritating Harry with the loud noise. He let him continue on it, finishing up his burger and throwing the used tissue inside the paper bag it’d come in. When Louis kept on being noisy, he turned around and pulled the straw from his mouth.

“It’s empty, stop this.”

Louis held Harry’s hand and brought the cup forward so he could suck once more on the straw. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Instead of pulling his cup away again, he picked up his own cup to suck on it till it was empty and just as noisy as Louis’. They kept on the stupid dispute until both were smiling at each other, tension diminished a bit.

Luckily it stayed like that for a while, as he threw away the rubbish, as he laid back down on the couch and waited for the food to settle in his full stomach. He might have dozed off for a bit on the couch, too comfortable as he was.

“Maybe I should get going,” he mumbled, mind hazy from sleep.

“Nonsense, the movie just started.” Louis whispered back, rearranging himself on the couch so his legs were thrown on top of Harry’s.

It was only after some ten good minutes of mindlessly petting Louis’ leg that Harry thought maybe they weren’t on some good footing to be doing it, but Louis didn’t seem to mind when Harry turned to look at him.

“Is that how you woo them? Massage?”

Maybe it was time Harry learned to stop celebrating his wins before they were true.

He stopped his petting and pulled on Louis’ big toe jokingly. “Stop being a prick.”

“That’s not a no.”

Harry sighed. “Stop that.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Louis smiled at him. 

Harry pulled his toe again. “You’re being a prick.”

“For wondering about your pulling ability? There’s nothing wrong with that. Unless,” he fake gasped, “is it that bad?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “no, it’s not, now pay attention to the movie and fuck off.”

It didn’t last for 10 minutes.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you help me out or not?”

“You’ve been a prick the whole day, chill out.”

“You’ve been avoiding my question the whole day, spill it.”

“Which question?”

“You know which question.”

“No, I don’t.”

Louis sighed forcefully and retrieved his legs from Harry’s. “Don’t be difficult. Will you help me out or not?”

“Why would you even… want that?”

If Harry was honest, that was the part that truly bugged him. Louis had no interest in Harry, never had and never would. Harry was fine with that, wasn’t he? They were good friends now. They built their own language, their own way to behave around each other and found themselves comfortable in how they were.

And now Louis just suckerpunched his way through a line they didn’t even dare acknowledge, let alone cross.

“Fucking hell, Styles, if you don’t want it you can say it, ok?” He got up quickly and started pacing in front of Harry, telly forgotten behind him, the dialogue clashing with every loud word Louis said, slowly drowning out any sound but what came out of his mouth. “What is it, did you lose interest? I thought you-”

“Don’t.”

“What?” He replied harshly, stopping at once in front of Harry.

“Don’t go there.”

Silence fell over them once, long enough for Harry’s brain to process the environment around them again. The telly was on, someone was breathing loudly, he was popping his fingers one by one nervously, the cracks echoing in the small space between Harry’s bent knees and Louis’ legs in front of him.

He continued staring at the coffee table behind Louis, rationally aware he was still sat on the sofa but feeling as if he were falling into a bottomless pit. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what was happening here.

“Don’t make me angry, Harry.”

A nerve ticked in Harry’s cheek. He cracked his thumb, eyes still focused on the shadows from the telly moving on top of the shiny mahogany.

“I’m talking to you, don’t ignore me.”

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was rough, he could hear distantly.

“Why are_ you _ reacting this way? This is so simple, isn’t it? it’s just a yes or no kind of situation, hardly worth all the brainpower you seem to be using here. There’s no need for drama.”

Harry shifted his eyes, but gave up at the last minute and chose instead to stare at Louis’ t-shirt instead of his face. He realized it was the Stone Roses shirt he gave him on his last birthday.

“Harry, come on, don’t be like th-”

Louis reached a hand out, but Harry intercepted it halfway, holding it away from him. He got up slowly, eyes still downcast and avoiding Louis’ stare.

“I want to know,” he squeezed Louis’ wrist gently. When he didn’t say nothing else, he squeezed a tad harder, eyes heavy on the print of the t-shirt in front of him. “Louis, tell me. I need to know why you’re doing this.”

“Are you daft, Harry? I just told you, I fucked up and-”

“You didn’t. You never do.” He looked up, finally staring down at Louis’ eyes just in time to see him retreat into himself behind a blank mask. “Why now? Why me?”

Louis pulled his wrist from its hold roughly. “Is that your way of saying no?”

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered and broke in stride, away from Louis just a second to gather his thoughts, his hands messily pulling on his curls. “That’s not my way of saying anything! And that’s the fucking problem, _ we _ -” he turned around pointing at both himself and Louis “-are not saying SHIT here. What the _ fuck _ is your problem? Who the fuck pesters someone to, to, to do this? _ Why are you doing this _?”

“No, no no no, no fucking way. Fuck you, Styles. The problem here is you, not me. Stop reading too much where there’s nothing to read into, ok? Fuck you.” He moved his hands around agitatedly, his voice louder than it had been before but he stood where he was, not giving an inch away.

“I thought the problem here was about me fucking you, not the other way around,” spilled from Harry’s mouth before he could stop it. The words tasted bitter and echoed just as so. His eyes didn’t stray from Louis’ as the words seeped in, slowly if his posture was anything to take from.

They finally had reached their breaking point, it seemed. The room felt bigger than it really was, suffocating with the words they threw at each other scattered around them, crawling over Harry’s skin for attention and messing up with his brain more than it already was. He felt small, caught up in something larger than him, than either of them, something that ran out of their control. 

And to make matters worse, Louis looked just as lost.

It made no sense, this mess of theirs. Like a freight train that came out of nowhere.

“I’ll tell you what, Harry.”

He cleared his throat, slowly gathered his confidence back as Harry watched impassively.

“I’ll tell you what,” he continued, a little calmer, softer, lower. It sounded almost warm. The calm before the storm. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to get ready. If by the time I’m done you’re still here, I’ll understand it as a yes. If you’re gone, I’ll call someone else. We’ll meet for the next game back at your house, pretend this never happened.”

Harry watched as Louis struggled with a smile, forcing it slowly once, twice, until it seemed almost friendly.

“It’s your choice now.”

He kept facing forward, so when Louis moved from his field of vision he couldn’t very well see him walk away - only listen as the old wooden floor creaked a bit under his steady steps, as the bathroom door opened then closed with a small click, as the echo of clothes falling to the floor carried all the way to the living room where Harry still stood. It was only when the shower began to work that he moved automatically, grabbing his keys and wallet from the table and out towards the entrance.

He stopped short of reaching for the doorknob. What was he doing? What were they doing?

What would they do if he stayed? 

What would they do if he went away?

What did Harry want?

Louis. That one was easy.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Harry wanted Louis, always had, always will. No need to time it into verb tenses: it was a past, present, future, continuous type of thing. Eternal. Always aching, always burning, always there. Always clouding his mind for a better judgement. He tried for the doorknob again but_ what was he doing _? Could he really walk away from possibly the only chance he would get?

But then again that was the problem: the possibility of only having it once shook him terribly, a shameful kind of cowardice awakening in him. He never considered himself a particularly brave alpha, but he never considered himself a proper coward until now. Could he settle for once? Could he taste Louis like he always dreamed of and go back to how they were? Could he cross that unspoken line and later behave as if nothing happened? Could he-

_ He _-

He dropped his hand back again. He said his heat was only next week. He said that was the problem, he needed someone and then he asked Harry and gave excuses to whatever Harry tried to argue with. He asked for his holidays to deal with his heat, of course he knew it was coming. He planned for it in advance with his _ work _, how could he not deal with it on the personal as well? And most importantly: if it was not his heat yet, then why was he already getting ready?

As if he knew Harry would say yes. But would he?

Would he?

Louis needed his help, of course he would.

(But it wasn’t his heat yet.)

Harry would always say yes to Louis, so of course he would again. And again. And again.

Especially tonight, when everything pointed to Harry not being the only one wanting it, as fucked up as the signs were. 

He turned away from the door, laying his stuff back down of top of the table. He leaned down with both his hands on top of it, got back up, walked to the kitchen and drank a cup of water to calm down. He wondered if he should drink some beer, promptly gave up on it, afraid of drinking too much, afraid of losing control. 

He felt he already lost it.

He took a deep breath, and another, and another. He put the empty glass back down and looked around the room until he felt himself focus again. Walls. Sink. Cabinets. Fridge. Groceries list pinned with a Batman magnet. A clock ticking up on the wall, matching the beat of his heart - or so it seemed.

He could do this. 

Would he do this? 

Did he want this?

He gulped. Closed his eyes. His mouth dried. He finally let himself think about it, let himself poke the hidden corners he’d let go so long ago. Louis was offering himself, would he take it? Did he want to?

Yes. Yes, he did. Yes, yes, he would.

Time seemed to slow down after he made his mind, a decade passing by till he heard the shower turn off, his body trembling with anticipation as he waited for Louis to get out, to confirm this was really going to happen, that Harry wasn’t having a fever dream.

God, last time he’d been this nervous standing inside a kitchen, he’d been sixteen and Louis was about to break his heart. He felt sixteen again. He felt on the edge of another heartbreak - and he was glad for it. He earned it, happily, eagerly.

The door of the bathroom opened.

“Harry?”

Steps approached where he stood slowly.

“Harry? Are you-” Louis turned the corner and saw him standing still in the middle of his kitchen, arms loose by his side. He whispered, “Harry.”

Apparently Louis ultimatum had been more of an attempt to get his message across than anything, because his wet hair was dripping all over the t-shirt he put back on along with his underwear. If his intent was to get laid promptly he shouldn’t have needed to do so, so maybe he got scared at the last moment - but his lack of trousers showed he was still halfway there.

Harry could very well meet him halfway through, so he raised his hands slowly, popping open the first button of his shirt open with his eyes focused on Louis to see how he reacted. When he kept on staring, Harry opened the next one and then the next. It was only when he opened the shirt fully and dropped it to the kitchen floor with a muffled noise that Louis seemed to gather his wits again.

“Good.”

That was the only invitation Harry needed to walk forward and grab Louis closer, hands fitting on the back of his head to bring his face up and towards Harry’s lips. He could lie and say it was nothing like he’d imagined or everything he had wished for, but for over ten years of dreaming how Louis would taste like, of watching him from far away he had a nice idea of how he’d fit against his lips or how he’d open up under his tongue. But still, it didn’t prepare Harry for the rush of lust that would overpower him, pressing Louis backwards until he was pressed against the wall and up closer against Harry.

“Fuck, wait, hold on, God, hold on,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips, whimpering a little when Harry sneaked a hand back and squeezed his arse. “Fuck, wait.”

“What? What is it?”

He waited for Louis to keep talking, watched as he pressed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Harry tried to drink him in, his opened lips, his stubble, the quickened breath and the flush in his cheeks. He cleared his throat and pulled his hands back, unsure if he was still welcomed to touch Louis anywhere.

“Are you ok?” He asked shyly.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah, I just,” he opened his eyes and laughed at Harry’s face, a shine of mirth taking over his whole face. “Fuck, I got in a tizzy so strong I felt like I was a teenage again. I’m already hard and wet as a whore.”

Harry licked his lips and tried to conceal the shudder he felt take over his body. If he didn’t control himself he would be popping his knot before they even took their clothes off. 

“How about we take this to your bedroom instead?” Harry could barely recognize his own voice, it sounded rougher than he remember it ever sounding. The weight of what they were doing was dragging him down on a slippery slope of lack of self control and he couldn’t do much more besides feel and taste and want.

“Yeah, fuck,” Louis moaned a bit as he palmed his own erection trapped in his boxers. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Harry instead of stepping back to allow Louis some space chased forward after another kiss, his alpha purring louder in satisfaction with every consent Louis gave him. He was a bit more delicate when he pushed Louis to the wall, trapping his lips on his hungrily, giddy with joy when Louis answered him instantly, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. His hands roamed Harry’s curls, his back and Harry welcomed him to do so, pulling him up and closer by curve where his arse met his legs - a magical, _ magical _ place where Harry’s hands fit just so.

“Harry,” Louis moaned against his lips, his stubble scratching Harry’s face as he dropped kisses all over his cheeks and jaw. “We should...” he trailed off and finished his thought with a sensual move of his hips, dragging his hard on against Harry’s.

Harry took his mouth once more in a filthy, open mouthed kiss, unable to do much more to abade his hunger. He couldn’t take Louis standing in the middle of his corridor - they deserved a bit more, he thought. He licked Louis’ lips one last time and nipped the lower one. “Lift your arms.”

Louis followed his order in a haze, lips still grazing Harry’s face in a million kisses and nips. He didn’t have the decency of taking Louis’ t-shirt quickly, instead he enjoyed the feel of goosebumps rising on Louis’ skin as he passed his hands over his body, from his covered arse up his sides under the fabric of the shirt, raising it slowly until it was up his arms and thrown away ungracefully to the floor. Louis’ wet hair was sticking up on the sides where the fabric had dragged upwards, looking a tad silly if not for how hungry Louis looked up at him.

“What’s this? Are you going to take my underwear off with your teeth now?”

Never let it be said Harry ever ran away from a challenge Louis set for him.

He dropped to his knees slowly, holding himself with his hands firm on Louis’ hips. He smirked a bit when Louis dropped his hands to his head, pulling his curls and silently inviting him to take him on his mouth as well. He did it teasingly, breathing against Louis’ cock over his pants, licking at the underside a little when Louis tightened his hold on his curls.

“Harry,” Louis moaned lowly, “the bedroom…”

Harry frowned a little. He knew where this was going, but if Louis could still complain about how he was pacing things he wasn’t doing his job properly. This was his one chance to prove his point across to Louis, to be the one he needed, and if Louis could still try and set the tone, Harry wasn’t doing enough. He ought to change that.

He started by sucking on Louis’ balls, licking them over the fabric and not minding how wet he made the pants become. When Louis moaned louder and braced himself against the wall, he held him closer by his thighs, fingers squeezing them and prompting them slowly farther apart so one hand could sneak up and press a finger up against his crack. Satisfied, he turned his head just so, sucking bites onto the inside of Louis’ thighs as well.

“You didn’t lie when you said you were wet as a whore,” Harry whispered as he looked up to watch Louis reaction, his mouth opened wider around a moan whenever he pushed his finger against his hole, pants and all.

“I,” his attempt broke into another moan, “I thought,” and another, “I thought you were gonna fuck me on my bed?” He managed to ask, words falling over themselves before he broke into a whimper when Harry pushed in more forcefully.

“Yes, I will. Soon.” He smiled up at Louis, surprised how sure his voice sounded. “But first I want to have some fun. Don’t you?”

“Fuck,” Louis rolled his eyes when Harry’s thumb grazed his sac and let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. Taking it for the invitation he wanted, Harry dove back down to suck on his tip through the fabric, knowing the tease and the roughness of it was driving Louis wild. He blew him as much as he could, one finger still circling his hole teasingly and mouth kissing his cock and licking his length over his pants.

When Louis startled babbling louder and calling for Harry twice in a row, he stopped his ministrations a bit and took his hands off Louis entirely, instead sitting back on his knees and waiting patiently for Louis to stop panting and look back down on him. He silently hoped it didn’t take so long however, considering how hard his cock ached against his jeans. Soon enough, Louis looked back down at him, a confused frown on his brow. Harry smiled innocently up at him and before he could ask what was going on, he kneeled up and closer to Louis again, holding him by his waist and biting his navel slowly, kissing it softly down and down until his teeth caught on the edge of his underwear. He held Louis in place and took it for leverage to drag himself down, taking the fabric down as well between his teeth. When it was mid Louis’ thighs Harry let it go and looked upwards.

“You wanted it like this?” He smiled up at him.

Harry kept on smiling as Louis brought his hands up, one to hold onto Harry’s curls again and another to jerk himself off. It took barely three strokes for Louis to come against Harry’s face, his toes curling as he moved a bit forward, watching as Harry watched him back, still smiling with Louis’ spunk messing him on his cheek and dimples and lips.

“Fuck, Harry,” he moaned once more and gave one last, lazy stroke, a last bit of come landing on Harry’s open lips. “Fuck.”

“As you wish,” he licked his lips, privately having fun over the meaning of his quote. Louis didn’t seem to catch it, face still impassive as he watched Harry’s face full of his come. He made quick work of Louis’ pants, using his hands to take them off quickly the rest of the way to enjoy Louis’ in full nudity. He was beautiful and worth every second Harry waited for him.

He got up quickly, took Louis’ hand off his hair and gave it a small kiss to its knuckles. Louis didn’t seem to mind having his hand dirty with his own come, especially not when Harry licked it clean just a second after. Instead, he pulled him down to another kiss, this one slower, somehow more sensuous than the ones before - could be either because of Louis’ nakedness against him or the taste of come between their tongues.

While he licked the taste of Louis’ come against his tongue, he felt him reach for his trousers, open his button and zipper expertly and push them down as he could, the jeans not going easily.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s why I hate whenever you wear these fucking skinnies,” Louis grumbled and got away from Harry, pushing him softly when he started to laugh instead of help him to pull them down.

“I didn’t know you hated my jeans?”

“I hate them with a fucking passion, I do,” he stopped trying and looked up at Harry in frustration. “Will you help me or not?”

Harry hummed. His cock could wait a little more, he was having too much fun with this unsettled Louis to stop now.

He stepped away from Louis’ touch, holding back a smirk when Louis started to protest the distance and perched himself against the other wall on the corridor. He made a small prayer he didn’t look as ridiculous as he felt and thrust his hips forward, bringing attention to his bulge as he touched his own chest slowly, hands moving down teasingly. Louis watched him entranced, his gulp loud when Harry’s hands reached the hem of his jeans. He brought them back up, one to play with his nipples while the other gathered the spunk from his face and brought it to his lips so he could suck noisily on his messy fingers.

“You look ridiculous,” Louis whispered. “And filthy.”

Harry sucked noisily, eyes amused and watchful on Louis. “I think you like it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied quietly.

His little show seemed to take effect on Louis, so Harry didn’t feel as stupid as when he had begun. He took the courage to continue his exploration, hands traveling back down to fit his fingers inside the hem and help it downwards, his hips moving slowly, side to side and back and forth teasingly until it was showing his pubic hair and the base of his cock.

“I always figured you would be thick,” Louis’ voice cut the heavy silence between them, and if the surprise in his eyes were to be believed he didn’t want to express that particular thought out loud. Harry smiled smugly, covering his cock with his right hand and grabbing himself over the covering of his jeans.

“Been thinking about my cock, have you?”

Louis raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t dignify with an answer. Harry figured he didn’t need to know either. Instead, he pulled himself out and jerked himself slowly, mindful to not pop his knot earlier than he wanted to.

“Go on now, have a look. Don’t be shy, I’m certainly not.”

“What if I have a taste instead?”

Harry quickly took his hands away, mindful of any extra stimulation to prevent himself from coming. Fuck. Teasing Louis when he was so fucking on the edge and getting teased back wasn’t exactly the smartest thing he’s done lately.

“Ah, that eager, aren’t we?” Louis stepped up closer to Harry, his hands open against his chest and pushing him slightly. “How about you put it to use instead of wasting a perfectly good knot on your own hands instead of in me?”

Harry froze for a moment, taken by surprise by what Louis meant with that - he said as much that he wanted Harry to knot him, which wasn’t exactly uncommon with alphas and omegas helping each other out in heats and ruts, but it did have another weight given their shared history or even their friendship. He gulped, suddenly hopeful once more. Besides, Louis wasn’t in heat, not yet. This was something else.

“You sure about that?”

Louis frowned up at him, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Not the most promising answer, but he would take it. Fuck, would he take it.

“Good,” he grinned and started to push his jeans down his legs, barely containing his eagerness in his movements. He could feel Louis watching him as he undressed, not trying to be sexy while he did it, just fast. When he was done and completely naked he straightened up, showing off for Louis’ appraisal. 

“Show off,” Louis murmured as he turned his back on him, walking towards his bed. 

Harry followed him promptly, his gazing falling on the mess on the floor. He never really entered Louis’ bedroom, so its messiness seemed known yet unfamiliar. Louis’ personality was splashed all over the walls and floor, his clothes thrown everywhere, photos of him and his family and friends on the walls and on the bedside table. He felt himself smiling slowly, taking in every little corner that made that room Louis’. It screamed his daily routine, his thoughts, something personal and so cherished. That’s how he got so distracted taking in that little secret corner of Louis’ daily life that he missed when he laid down on his bed, legs spread and opened in invitation for Harry. When he finally looked back at Louis and saw him looking back, he forgot the words he was about to say, forgot himself and where they stood.

“Hey, you know you can let go now, don’t you?”

“What?” Harry managed to rasp out, his voice and thoughts scattered around.

“You can let go now. I know you’re still holding on a bit, and you can let go now,” he moved around a bit on his bed, getting even more comfortable and holding Harry’s gaze with his own. “It’s okay, I can take it.”

Harry felt the very last barrier, the one he didn’t even know he was clinging to, crumble under his feet. For a millisecond, he wondered how could Louis even know that he was holding back, but then he was already stepping closer to Louis, letting go of himself and any restriction he still held up to protect his feelings and their friendship. 

_ Fuck _ , he thought as he laid down on top of Louis, his pupil’s blown wild as he let himself smell him fully, _ this is what he was depriving himself from and now he could enjoy it recklessly _. 

Their next kiss felt more like one between an alpha and his omega, one trying to prove the other he was worth it. It wasn’t about strength or roughness, but ownership. And as Harry pulled Louis’ arms upwards and held his wrists down, as he tasted his mouth and kissed his face, as he breath him in, all he could think and feel was owning Louis, consuming him.

“Harry,” Louis panted against his mouth, legs pulling him in closer and hands tying to Harry’s in a firm grip, “Harry.”

“Sh, I’ve got you, I do,” he answered lowly, his voice mingling with their deep breaths. He was half crazy already, trying not to rut against Louis’ wet arse, his senses filled with his smell - with _ their _ smell, Harry stinking up the bed just as much with how strong his alpha was marking up his place. 

Louis whimpered again, moving his hips up and towards his when he leaned down to bite him up on his neck, his collarbones, his nipples, wherever he could reach. When Harry was getting down towards his navel, Louis asked in half a voice what did he think he was doing, raising a chuckle out of Harry. “Getting you hard again?”

“Get up, get up,” Louis pulled him up and away enough for him to move into all fours. “There’s no need to get me hard again, just fuck me.”

Harry licked his lips slowly, eyes fixed on Louis’ wet hole. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

It was the finality, the sureness of Louis’ voice that got Harry moving again. His alpha was pleased to finally get some action, and even more to know his omega was already taken care of and now just needed him.

It wasn’t enough to stop Harry from showering Louis’ back with small, kitten licks and bites, kissing his way around his skin until Louis huffed out loud. “Stop complaining, let me take care of you,” he murmured, but still settled in place behind Louis’ positioned arse.

He took his moment, though. God knew he needed a second to take in the glory of, after all these years, holding himself in hand and teasing his cock’s head against Louis’ entrance. He could feel pleasure building from the tip pressed against the wetness, the drag against his puckered skin driving him insane - and Louis as well, if his little grunt was anything to go by. He bit his lower lip, focusing on his next action as he put one hand on Louis’ hip for leverage and with a calmness he didn’t feel, slowly pushed the tip inside him, feeling and hearing Louis’ rough moan.

“Is this ok? Should I have-”

“Just go slowly.”

He seemed to have fingered himself open while he had been in the bathroom, because the slid in wasn’t impossible, yet still tight enough Harry could barely hold himself still. Pushing inside was agony and bliss, not only by having his cock inside a warm arse, but by feeling Louis’ tremble underneath his wandering hands, by seeing him moan wantonly and spread himself wider against the bed and push back against Harry.

“Like this?”

Louis didn’t answer, instead fisted his hands against the bed cover and pulled it tight when Harry pushed a little bit more inside. He had never felt this big, this powerful, this subservient to another human being as he felt now, bottoming out against Louis’ arse and falling forward until his chest covered Louis’ back, their skin sticking a bit with every deep breath they took, out of sync between each other.

“Finally,” he didn’t even register his whisper, had Louis not reacted by punching him on the leg.

“Perfect way to kill the mood, Styles.”

Harry huffed, his face hidden on the crook of Louis’ neck. “Don’t worry,” he moved his hips minutely, shifting sideways just so Louis could feel him against his rim and fully inside him, “I can get it back on in no time at all.” He kissed the skin there, taking his time to mark Louis’ neck and shoulder with hickeys, careful not to bite. Despite feeling out of control, taken by his feelings, he knew there lay a limit (a_ claiming _) neither were ready to cross yet. 

“Move.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His first thrusts were slow, deliberately so, to better drag against Louis’ rim and make him feel full whenever he pushed deep inside. It was only when Louis got restless, pushing himself back against Harry’s slow thrust, his head resting against Harry’s and neck exposed, making his moans sound out louder, louder and louder that Harry decided to give in to temptation once more.

“You said you could take me?”

“Fuck, I’m trying to here,” Louis answered quickly, his hips slapping against Harry’s noisily.

“Good,” Harry breathed in then braced himself up slowly, pushing Louis down with his hands on his back until Louis had his head against the pillow, deep and ragged breaths against it. Harry panted, the taste of their mingle smell sinful at the back of his throat and he took a moment just to appreciate where he was, kneeling on the mattress, his cock barely moving inside Louis’ arse.

“If you keep on fucking me slowly I’-”

Harry didn’t bother waiting for Louis to finish, instead he held him down by the back of his neck and pulled his arse back against his cock and higher by the crook of his left hip, perfect for Harry to fuck into faster and deeper. Louis seemed to agree with him, his hands disappearing under his navel and his moans rising in volume and depth. 

“Fuck, Harry, that’s good, that’s perfect, that’s-”

Harry was almost ashamed by how quickly he came after that, had he not been so desperate to get his knot in Louis. It took him three tries for it to settle inside, each attempt raising a gasp from Louis prone body, his hands moving faster over his cock. It took awhile for Harry to come down from his high, his breath deep and irregular, his thoughts coming too slowly just to register Louis cursing underneath him, his grip strong against Harry’s hand still holding him by the neck and begging him to _ do something _.

Harry moved his hands until they held Louis by the arms, to better bring him up and kneel against Harry, every movement jousting Harry’s knot inside Louis’ hole. By the way the head of his cock dripped, Harry gathered that must feel nice for Louis as well.

“Let me,” he took his hand, one to press against Louis’ throat and expose it for Harry to kiss and lick and bruise, and the other skittered down to jerk him off, every once in a while coupling his movements with a shallow thrust to better position his knot inside him.

Soon enough, he came, hands scratching Harry’s arm in a better compliment than he had ever received before.

“Fucking hell. Holy fuck.” Louis moaned once more, circling his hips against the knot inside him still. “Goddamnit.”

Harry laughed softly, kissing Louis’ cheek just once. “I gather this was good?”

“No talking, let me-” he yawned, mouth opened wide and throat moving under Harry’s hand “- let me sleep first, then we can talk. Arrange how we gonna do it. God, do you wanna be fuck buddies? Cause I’m totally down for it.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled softly, carefully moving them until they both could lay down sideways on the mattress, Louis with his head pillowed over Harry’s arm as if that was his rightful place.

Maybe it was.

“I mean it,” Louis continued, voice raspy and out of it as if he had just blinked back from sleep just to whisper that. “We could work out well, we’re good friends and we fuck good. No mess. No feelings.”

Dread always took a little longer to settle in after a good orgasm, but when it did, it put Harry fully awake.

“What did you just say?”

Louis’ answer was nothing but a deep sigh, content as anyone truly fucked out could be. He was deep asleep already. Harry thought about shaking him awake, of asking what the fuck did he mean by that - but why would he? So they could argue again, this time with Harry knotted inside him?

God, Harry was knotted inside him. They didn’t even use any form of protection. They just tumbled into bed like two fucking idiots who didn’t know better, who-

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It ruffled Louis’ hair, but didn’t wake him up, he kept on sleeping, snuggled against Harry as if he hadn’t just shattered Harry’s world again.

And it wasn’t even his fault, was it? ‘You always read too much into it’ indeed. No mess. No feelings. Except they were nothing but a mess and Harry was choking on all his feelings, wasn’t he?

He saw red. God, had he not been pinned down by Louis already, he would have been by the pure rage that overcame him.

How could he do this to him? Again? Harry was sick and tired of being stretched thin and used and discarded and brought back in and stretched so thin, so thin, so thin by someone who didn’t even want him.

No mess. No feelings.

And to make matters worse he had been fine, hadn’t he? He had just gotten out of a seven-month long relationship, he had Louis as a friend, he had been fine, he had been content with how his life was.

A job. A house. Not a bond per se, but bonding with people.

But no mess, no feelings.

God, he wasn’t even to blame this time. Louis had been the one to start it, with the lousy excuse he had oopsie forgot his heat? What kind of dumb ambush did he get himself into, had fallen trap to? And by the end of it, to think, to give himself fully only to once again be reminded there wasn’t supposed to be a _ mess _ , they weren’t supposed to have _ feelings _?

Fuck that. Fuck that fuck that fuck that fuck that and fuck Louis for even thinking that. _ Louis _ was the one who didn’t know what the fuck he wanted, _ Louis _ was the one who got them into this mess, so he should be the one to get them out of it, not Harry. _ Harry _ had been the one to wear his feelings on his sleeve from the get go, _ Harry _ had been the one always upfront when it was about them. _ Harry _ wasn’t the one to blame here, not for this particular mess. _ Louis _ was. Louis. Louis, he-. Louis. He-

Harry took a deep breath. And another. And another. Still, the tears came. 

He tried to abide them, free hand hard against his face to mute his sobs. Thankfully, Louis slept on, soft snores against Harry’s arm, his warm breath against his skin another reason for Harry to break down and cry.

He had reached for something he could never have and once again had been burned by it. And the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret it. What did that say about him? About someone who was worn down, stretched thin, hollowed out for someone else and in the end just grateful for having them in their arms, for one second of blissful ignorance?

He swallowed down a sob. The movement sharp enough it brought to attention how they were still stuck, his knot inside Louis, his sleepy mewl dissonant to Harry’s choked down tears. 

It was all so wrong. Fuck, how could he let it get to that point?

How could Louis-

How could them-

How could-

When they had their history, how could-

How-

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, grateful for the darkness around him. His hand pressed harder against his face, his cheek squished against it, wet in tears.

How could he do this to himself?

He should have gotten his wallet, he should have gotten his keys, he should have walked out. He should have said no. He should have accepted this wasn’t supposed to happen and instead just wish for it from afar, cherish the thought and never regret the action.

(But he didn’t regret it.)

No, he didn’t. But it didn’t feel right either. Not right now, crying with his knot inside Louis, crying while he slept on, unaware of Harry, of how they fucked up.

They did. Together, for once. 

(But that didn’t make it any better.)

Harry took a shuddered breath in and exhaled it slowly, dreadful of waking Louis up before he had his mind made up. He needed to know for once what he felt before he gave in to his feelings, to what they could be. He wasn’t his alpha, he wasn’t Louis’ alpha, he was Harry, inside all that hurt he felt.

Ok, small steps then.

First, breathe in.

Louis didn’t want him like Harry wanted him and that was fine. 

Breathe out.

Harry accepted Louis’ invitation and raised expectations from it when Louis clearly didn’t want him to. He had had hope when there was none to be had.

Was it fine?

Breathe in.

No.

Breathe out.

A sob escaped once more. It shook them both. Louis moaned.

Harry felt the little thread of dignity he still held onto escape him at last.

That had to be it, hadn’t it? In the end, Louis had had his way, and Harry had had his way, but they both wanted, _ expected _ different things. Louis had made it clear, Harry had not.

In the end, it wasn’t fair because Harry hadn’t made it fair.

Louis had told from the beginning: I need someone to help me out.

Harry had told from the beginning: you’re my mate.

Neither listened to the other.

Another sob. It shook Louis. He grunted in his sleep. 

They wanted different things from the very beginning, and yet they never listened.

No, scratch that. _ Harry _ never listened.

Harry wanted a mate, Louis said no. Harry waited for his mate anyway. And he waited, and he waited, and he cheated himself because of it, and he broke down, and he healed, and he moved on - but did he really? Had he really? Hadn’t he been, deep down, waiting for this microsecond where Louis was in his arms and everything had been fine? Before reality settled in and Harry had to remember? Remember waiting, remember accusations of exes, of loving someone from afar and always, always, always waiting for them?

This wasn’t fair on either of them. What kind of friend could Harry have been to Louis all this time?

Worse yet: what kind of cruel, dishonest cheat had he been to himself?

How could he have let himself be stretched so thin by someone else?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Let the tears flow.

God, he may have Louis in his arms right now, but he had never felt this lonely.

But it was past the time he took responsibility for himself. To himself.

Maybe he was blaming himself yet again not to hold Louis accountable for his actions. Maybe Louis didn’t need to be, not about this. They shared a fault, they made a mess tonight. But this? Harry’s feelings? That was only Harry.

Only Harry.

It was past the time he accepted it.

The night settled in slowly. It was surprisingly calm after the sobs quieted down, after his tears dried. He couldn’t feel his alpha - he didn’t want to. His knot felt foreign, his arm under Louis’ head was numb. There was a chill in the room and he didn’t know if it was his own feelings that made it be. He felt numb. 

Time passed by slowly.

(Louis slept on.)

Sometime around mild contempt and slow acceptance, his knot shrunk down and he finally pulled out. Louis stirred, but didn’t wake up. Harry let him sleep on.

After more time, Harry figured it had been long enough. He had settled. He had accepted it. It was time to move on.

He couldn’t feel the arm Louis used, his fingers spread unused against the pillows. Alien as it felt, he moved cautiously until he pressed his elbow down against the mattress and got up slowly to look down on Louis, still asleep. He had his mouth opened a bit, drool falling sideways from it. Harry’s smile came slowly, but genuine. He allowed himself a moment to just look, taking in the spidery webs of his eyelashes, his stubble, his soft lips, the messy hair. He noticed Louis slept like a little kid, his hands brought up against his face as if he were cuddling a comfort blanket or a teddy bear. 

It took some maneuvering, but soon enough Harry was able to take his arm from under Louis and change it for one of his pillows - a clean one, at least. He moved down the bed as softly as he could, afraid of stirring Louis too much from his sleep.

Then, it was time to trace their steps back. First, out of the room, back to the corridor and his discarded trousers, pants and socks. He had no pride in cleaning himself on his own underwear, but one does what one has to. He pulled it afterwards inside his jeans’ back pocket, distantly hoping his shirt was big enough to cover it.

It was while he was in the kitchen, slowly buttoning his shirt up that Louis walked in with nothing but his blanket wrapped around him.

“You left the bed.”

His voice (or his acknowledgement) had been a surprise enough to stop Harry for a moment, halfway through buttoning it. Instead of answering, he wondered if he should just leave it open as it was, or if he would feel better a little more covered up. He settled on buttoning it all the way up.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

He didn’t feel ready to face Louis yet. Not yet. 

“You have your boots on.”

“I do.”

He put his keys and wallet in his pocket. Sighed. Louis followed suit.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Harry winced. Yes, there was something to say, but that didn’t mean Harry wanted to say it.

“Come back to bed.”

Harry bit his lip. Tried to look at Louis. Couldn’t.

“I can’t.”

Another sigh.

“Why?”

Harry shrugged. Sighed. Shrugged.

“Harry.”

“Louis.”

“What is it?”

Harry braced himself. He took his time, then faced Louis.

(He looked adorable. He looked sad.)

“I can’t do this, Louis. Not anymore.”

“Do what?”

“This.”

“Listen, it was just one time, okay? We can-”

“No, Louis, listen to me.” He walked towards Louis as if he were to hold him, but held himself back at the last minute, hands suspended in the air. “I can’t. We can’t.”

“Harry, why-”

“You asked me if we could be fuck buddies before you fell asleep. No mess. No feelings.” Louis stayed silent, waiting for Harry to continue. “I can’t do that, you know I can’t.”

“That’s okay, it was a suggestion, Harry. It doesn’t mean tonight has to end on a sour note. Or,” he suddenly looked shy, “it doesn’t mean it can’t happen again, next week-”

“Yes, it does, Louis,” Harry closed his eyes and pushed his palms against them. “Fuck, but it does.”

“Why?”

He took his hands away from his face and let them fall to his side. “Because I can’t do it anymore, Louis. Betray myself, betray you. Trick myself like there’s something here when there’s not. This isn’t fair to either of us. This isn’t even fair to whatever kind of friendship we managed to build these past years. And you’ve told me again and again not to pursue whatever it was that I had in my head, whatever I believed,” he paused, continued, “what I _ believe _ in, but it was no use, was it? I didn’t listen. And then, God, Louis. You don’t feel it, but I do, and God. This isn’t fair. Not to me, not to you. So, I can’t do it. I can’t,” he breathed out, his last words escaping free along with the weight on his shoulders, “not anymore.”

“I like our friendship, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry sighed for the uptenth time. There was no use to be angry at Louis, when Harry was the only one at fault here. “The thing is,” he looked up at him, “I don’t.”

Silence stretched for a minute while they stared at each other. It took awhile, but soon a dejected look appeared on Louis’ face, turning into a wince as he braced himself. Finally they truly seemed to be on the same page.

It wasn’t unreasonable, for either of them. It wasn’t any of their faults either.

It is what it is.

“I love you, Louis.” Harry shrugged. “I always have and I always will, there’s no denying that. But,” and here he took a deep breath, trying to control his garbled voice. He knew he could do this without crying but fuck, was it hard. “But I think it’s time I learn to love me as well, you know? I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’ve given you all I have, it’s time to save some for myself.”

“Harry…”

Harry used the excuse of waiting yet again for Louis to say anything to contain his tears, especially because he didn’t hold any hope anymore. Time and time again he’d been told he shouldn’t hold any hope, but his thick, stubborn heart didn’t let it get in, instead waiting until it had come to this.

“It’s no use, Louis. It’s not your fault.” He couldn’t hold back, breaking their eye contact to dry a tear that broke free with his hand. “I have to understand it isn’t mine either.”

“It’s not, it’s just,” Louis wriggled his hands, and even though Harry wasn’t staring at him he knew the face he was making. Anxious. Alarmed. So beautiful and unattainable.

“It’s fucked up, it’s what it is.” Harry mumbled at the floor. Louis seemed to agree, because he stopped his wriggling - stopped moving altogether. 

The silence, more than anything, gave a last burst of strength to Harry, so he could plaster a smile on his face and look up at Louis yet again. “But that’s just life, I guess.”

He approached Louis slowly, mindful of the storm of emotions he was expressing. Mostly, he just looked startled and apologetic. Harry refused to think about how it bordered on being pitiful for him. Instead, he cuddled Louis face one last time, breathed against his face one last time, and kissed-

-oh-

-so-

-gently-

-his forehead one last time. The weight of his feelings couldn’t be translated into roughness for such a delicate kiss, so that’s why they dragged the tears out of Harry so fiercely.

Harry tried not to sob as he smelled Louis’ hair, his scent, his sweat.

One last time.

A last, little, robbed moment of a time.

He stepped back, refusing to betray himself once more. “I love you, Louis. Goodbye.”

He didn’t look into his eyes, too brave to search that last reaction out of Louis.

He didn’t have anything else in him to crumble, he realized as he closed the door behind him. The tears didn’t humiliate him, nor did the marks on his body, the smell of sex on his clothes.

There was nothing bad about where he was, if it meant every step forward meant progress.

He walked away from the door, his steps echoing through the empty corridor.

There was no shame in doing this for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I have now used "sensual" and "sensuous" in a fic of mine. I expect absolutely no forgiveness for this sin. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you want. If you don't want, pass by my [post](https://perfectdagger.tumblr.com/post/187887480913/find-what-you-love-my-dear-find-what-you-love)  
, reblog and tell me your thoughts through a meme.


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